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The light hits the Grand Commons beautifully at this time of day. The Jedi built their temple on Koboh in a perfect spot, atop a mountain with a view of the land around them. It has held up remarkably well despite the onslaught of moonrocks that had once pummelled Koboh. It is quiet up here, empty where once it was busy. Cal knows it was busy. The echoes insist upon showing him all the lives that once dwelt here. He checks them obsessively. If he does, he doesn’t feel so empty.
He moves through the old temple’s remaining hallways carefully, mindful of every artifact that has survived the flow of time. He must preserve it, all of it.
For Cere. For Master Cordova.
For himself. For any other Jedi that may still be out there somewhere.
Cal isn’t a very good Cere, but he’s going to do his best. By the will of the Force, he will do his absolute best to pick up where she left off, value the culture he grew up in no matter how distant it feels to him. He is a Jedi. It’s time he learned what that means to him. He must become more than a weapon, something other than a soldier in a war he has made no impact on. He owes it to Cere to be the Jedi she was, the Jedi Master Tapal was, the Jedi both of them trained him to be. Principled. Dedicated. Guided by the Code. Not a renegade spending other people’s lives on a hopeless cause. No, not entirely hopeless. Ignorant to it though he was, he helped The Hidden Path, making himself a target so they could stay in the shadows.
He can – he will – do better.
And where better to start than in the High Republic ruins on Koboh, to what the Jedi of another era left behind. He cannot hope to match Santari Khri’s engineering talent, he’s a scrapper after all, but perhaps he can secure enough of her legacy for someone else to benefit from someday.
Cal gathers holobooks, piling them up by the door to the manse, ready to take to Tanalorr. Echoes sing in his head, so many and so layered Cal feels he is in the company of many studious, dedicated Jedi going diligently about their duties. BD is there to squawk at him and deliver a low-level shock every time Cal tries to follow an echo Jedi down a corridor that no longer exists.
“Sorry, buddy,” Cal says, after BD’s fifth intervention of the morning.
BD settles himself once more, reminding Cal once again that death by fall into lava will be truly, monumentally awful.
“I know, I know.” It’s easy to lose himself in the past when he’s actively trying.
Cal hasn’t said anything to anyone, but he does feel a call, a pull, one he cannot ignore. At night, he finds himself drawn to the old meditation chambers, all their echoes soothing his troubled mind, allowing him a few hours of rest. He always leaves a note on the bar for Greez so he doesn’t worry and always returns in time for breakfast. Kata needs stability, a routine to rely on, and Cal’s nocturnal wanderings cannot feature in it. Which is why today, after breakfast and once Kata was suitably occupied with math lessons (who knew Gulu and Gido would be such eager teachers? Maybe Cal should check exactly what it is they’re teaching her…), he, BD and Merrin returned to the Grand Commons. She’s poking around nearby, and has yet to comment on Cal’s near-constant echo rummaging. She knows he spends his nights away from Pyloon’s too. Cal waits for the inevitable conversation they will have about it. She isn’t shy, and she always pushes. It’s coming. He’ll be ready.
Merrin returns from the courtyard. “The Jedi of this era spared no expense,” she says. “The architecture is impressive. So much gold. Perhaps when we can be sure of its stability, we should bring Kata here. Jedi culture is part of her heritage.”
That’s another reason Cal needs to know more about the Jedi: Kata is going to want to know more about her father’s past someday. He needs to know more than his own limited experience.
“What about Dathomir?” Cal asks. “She’d love to see your home too.”
“I have considered it,” Merrin says. “I would like her to learn its past and of my sisters, but perhaps when she is older and can better appreciate what happened. If we were to take her now, I feel it would be a further burden upon her.”
Cal looks out upon the ruins of the Jedi. “Yeah, you’re right. We need to let her be a kid for a while.”
“Yes, she deserves as much of a childhood as we can give her,” Merrin says. She picks up a small figurine up from the floor and holds it out to Cal. “Is this alright for her?”
It is a carving of a nekko, the markings intricate if amateurish. BD scans and confirms it is made of non-toxic wood. Cal reads the echo. A Padawan carved it, the Force guiding her hand, her love of nekkos reflected in her work. She wanted it to look like the bright red nekko she’d nicknamed Ava. She dropped the carving here when the moon fell on Koboh, before –
“It’s perfect,” Cal says, releasing the echo. “Ava deserves someone who will care for it.”
“Ava? That is a good name.” Merrin tucks it away.
They resume their individual searches, BD only heading off to continue scanning once Cal promises not to walk off any cliffs. Hands by his side, Cal closes his eyes and basks in the light, in the peace, in the sense that the Jedi here had worked hard and upheld their ideals even when one of their own turned on them and the moon fell.
No one knew what Dagan would do. Not any of the masters, including Santari who knew him so well. And if she didn’t know what he would become…
…is it alright for Cal to not know who Bode truly was?
BD bursts out from a pile of furniture, calling to Cal about another holobook he’s found. Cal digs droid and book out.
“Master Khri?”
She looks to the Pantoran Padawan, one of the more recent arrivals. So young, so uncertain, a holobook clutched to her chest. Santari believes her name is Marl. “Yes, Padawan?”
“Zee told me I would find you here.” Marl holds out the holobook. “Master Yoda said I was to bring this to you when my Master and I left Coruscant. He said you need it more than the Archive.” The Padawan’s cheeks blush a brilliant purple. “I hope Master Yoda asked Master Talin if it was okay to remove it.”
Deciding against telling the young one Master Yoda’s moods were frequently unfathomable, and Master Talin would never argue with the Grand Master’s will, Santari thanks her, takes the book and sends her on her way. Opening the book, Santari chuckles. Master Yoda certainly has a unique sense of humour.
Planting: Gardening and Cultivation of Unique Flowers.
His way of reminding her to go outside and renew her connection to nature every so often. Good thing the Padawan found her here and not on Koboh’s moon. The book is the work of Master Phai, recently passed into the Force but renowned for his talent with plant life. And yet his main work for the Jedi was diplomacy. Gardening had been a hobby, and Santari had met him many times in the Temple’s gardens, tending to the flowers.
A reminder, perhaps, that although her work here is crucial, Santari should not neglect other things.
The echo fades. Cal flips the book open, the contents still legible. Maybe Pili would like it. The advice within can’t all be ‘use the Force to grow your flowers.’ If the Anchorites experience the Force through knowledge, maybe Pili does through her botany work.
“Good find, BD,” Cal says, adding it to the pile they’ll be taking with them.
Merrin returns, arms full of more holobooks. “I think we have rescued all that we can,” she says. “I will call Greez to collect us.”
That’s the problem with these ruins – they are hard to reach and there’s no way they can carry the holobooks back to Pyloon’s without help. But Cal isn’t ready to return yet.
“Are you okay to go back with him, make sure Gido and Gulu aren’t turning Kata into the Outpost’s youngest cynic?” he asks. “I’m not finished here yet.”
Merrin finally strikes. “Being here is a homecoming for you. All the chambers you visit are too. These are important relics for you.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“When I returned to Dathomir, it was because I missed home, and I knew it had more to teach me. You cannot go home, Coruscant is too dangerous for you, and your Jedi Temple has been consumed by evil. However, that does not mean the Jedi’s legacy is out of reach for you.” She reaches for him, pulls him to her arms, his head resting on her shoulder. “Take all the time you need, but do not lose sight of the present.”
“Balance in all things,” he says. “The Hidden Path needs us.”
“Yes.” She kisses his cheek. “And you need a home.”
She heads out to call Greez. Cal drops into one of the chairs, echoes of a dozing elder filling him. He shakes them off before he takes a nap too, BD hopping onto the chair arm and asking if Cal needs another shock.
“No, BD, I’m good.” Actually, his head is aching a little. Too many echoes, not enough sleep. “What do you think, buddy? Will Tanalorr be a home for us and the Path?”
Wherever Cal is, BD is home.
“You don’t miss Bogano?” That must be the closest BD ever had to a home.
Bogano, BD explains, has nothing new left to scan.
“Unstoppable, BD.” Cal taps his head.
That’s why it’s a good thing there is still so much to scan here on Koboh in the Jedi ruins. Lots left to learn. And then they have Tanalorr, a whole new world full of unknowns. It’s enough to make his circuits spark! This, BD punctuates with a twirl.
“Couldn’t do any of it without you,” Cal says.
BD hops onto Cal’s lap, nuzzling against his belly. Cal wraps his hands around him.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Merrin steps back in. “Greez is on his way. He promised that Kata is fine and Gido and Gulu are teaching her multiplication. I will not do all the heavy lifting myself.” She nods at their large pile of holobooks. “You must help.”
“You think we can build something like this on Tanalorr?” Cal asks, knees cracking as he stands. “Something that will last for generations? That will outlive even the memories of us?”
“Perhaps,” Merrin says. “You are in a heavy mood today. BD, zap him. Cal is brooding too much.”
A maniacal chuckle and a crackle of electricity emanates from the droid on Cal’s lap. Lifting him, Cal gives BD a good stare. “Don’t. You. Try. It.”
BD tries it.
“Ow, BD!” Cal launches him into the air.
Rockets activating, BD flies to safety with sly buzz, landing on Merrin’s shoulder. “Oh dear,” she observes. “The boys are fighting.”
Noise outside signals Greez’s approach. Shaking his head in mock despair, Cal heads out, carrying a stack of books. The Mantis hovers overhead, ramp extending. It’s too high even for Cal to jump to.
Merrin appears, takes his pile from him, allows BD to return to Cal, and teleports aboard the ship. It takes her five trips in total to load everything up. She returns to Cal and BD one last time.
“Take care on your journey back to the saloon,” she says. “And do not be late for dinner. Greez says you need to leave enough time for a shower because he can smell you from the ship.”
Resisting the urge to check his armpits, Cal nods. “I won’t linger.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant. Take all the time you need but still be back for dinner. Come back tomorrow if you feel you must. Your Order may be gone, but the Jedi still live within you, just as the Nightsisters live on with me.” She gives him a gentle push. “Go, be with yourself and your Order.”
BD ahems.
“Yourself, your Order and BD,” Merrin corrects.
Nodding, BD settles.
Merrin returns to the ship. The Mantis flies off and Cal returns to the ruins, goes into the chamber they’d rescued the majority of the books for, and sinks to his knees. “Scan to your processor’s content,” Cal tells him. “I’m going to meditate for a while.”
After delivering a lecture on not wandering off, BD leaves Cal to his meditation.
Sinking into the Force, Cal allows it to embrace him. It is warmth. It is home. It is peace, serenity. Here, the darkness cannot reach him, its whispers muted. Kneeling in the Grand Commons, he feels closer to the Jedi Order than he has in a long time. It is just like the Chambers, where the Jedi’s true work, their dedication to advancement for all, calls to him. He will never set foot in his Jedi Temple ever again; the chambers and these remains are as close as he is ever likely to get to the home he left so long ago.
Anguish crushes him. The Force plucks at it, takes it away. He releases his pain.
Peace. Serenity. Let go.
Please, he begs himself, let go.
Slowly, mind clearing, Cal allows himself to see the ruins for what they truly are: reminders that the Jedi Order was so much greater than its failures. The Jedi who lived here dedicated themselves to exploration for the sake of peace. They pushed themselves harder, further, for the Republic. They were a symbol of progress, a symbol of hope. Cal has tried to be that too. He has tried so hard to uphold the image of an ideal Jedi, to show the galaxy that the Jedi are not gone, that they too can stand up and fight tyranny.
And all the while Cal slowly turned his back on the ideals he was raised to uphold. He told anyone who asked he was a Jedi but then insisted he could live a life outside the Order’s Code. Because under the façade, burning away, was a churning pit of anger about what happened to him, to Master Tapal, to the Jedi Order, the unfairness of it all.
The Jedi Order fell. It failed. So what use was an Order that couldn’t foresee its own destruction? What use was an Order that couldn’t save itself?
He is a Jedi without an Order, without a home. He is allowed to be angry. He is allowed to grieve. But if he is to find his way again, if he is to be the Jedi he must truly become, he must make peace with his past, move past the arrogance that has taken root in him. He is one person. The Jedi were an Order. Cere wanted to protect that legacy because she understood it. Cal wanted to fight because he was adrift. The truth is he does not know better than thousands upon thousands of years of knowledge and heritage.
Like Santari Khri, Cal needs to reconnect to the Force outside of his mission.
I will do better, he tells the Force.
Our legacy will continue, he tells the Jedi who went before him.
I will build something that outlasts the Empire, he tells Cere.
He emerges from his meditation to soft rainfall and BD at his side. It’s early afternoon, and they have a long journey back to the Outpost.
“Hey buddy.” Cal holds out an arm for BD to climb. “Ready to head back?”
BD whoops but says he found one more thing. He takes Cal into the area where they’d once found Master Yaddle’s theses. He nods to the shelves. Cal moves them out of the way and there, nestled as though it had waited two hundred years for him, sits a small sketchbook. Pulling it to his hand, Cal feels a world open in his mind as echoes of Santari sketching overlap the images she created. Koboh, before the moon shattered, the Republic’s structures in their prime. She drew her machines, her buildings, the other Jedi, even a few plants she cultivated. The Force thrums in every pencil stroke, chimes in every brush of colour. Art was a meditation for her. The past fades from Cal’s consciousness as he takes in Santari’s art without the ghost of her hand creating it. He finds a sketch of Master Yoda, looking exactly the same as Cal remembered. There’s a sketch of Master Rancisis too, looking a lot younger than Cal remembered. Cal met him once. He and Master Tapal were good friends, having both been trained by Master Yaddle. Cal mostly recalls feeling completely overwhelmed at having tea with a real live Council member…
…and thinking he would have been a much better sized Padawan for Master Yaddle.
“Thanks, BD.” Cal slips the sketchbook into a pocket. “It’s a great find.”
It’s time to go – for now. Can’t be late for dinner. Leaving the temple remains behind, Cal heads for a nearby relter nest for a ride across to the Boiling Bluffs.
By the time he makes it back to the saloon, he’s dripping wet and more than a little bit muddy from having to dodge rawkas. So. Many. Rawkas. He splodges his way inside, waving to all the familiar faces. Mosey gives a loud whistle. Cal flushes, glad the mud is covering his face.
Greez catches sight of him and jabs several fingers towards the refresher. “Shower. You’ve got five minutes. You’ll be glad to know I’ve already left you a change of clothes. You better wash up too, BD. You’re oozing mud from your gears.”
Upset to be caught oozing, BD races into the refresher ahead of Cal. They make quick work of cleaning up, Cal throwing on the clothes Greez left out for him. Resucing Santari’s sketchbook, Cal ditches the rest of his clothes in the washer. He heads back to the saloon proper, meeting up with Merrin and Kata in their usual booth. Kata has the carved nekko in her hands, hopping it back and forth.
“You like it?” Cal asks.
Kata nods. “Merrin said a Jedi carved it and called it Ava.”
“Yeah,” Cal says, the echo replaying in his mind. “She loved nekkos, especially a red one she nicknamed Ava.”
“I do too,” Kata says. “Mosey said she’ll teach me to ride one in the paddock.” She looks at Cal, shyly excited. “We can start tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
Cal leans out of the booth, catching Mosey’s eye. Mosey shrugs, winks. Cal slides back in. “Okay,” he says. “But you do everything Mosey says.”
“She will,” Mosey calls.
“I will!” Kata promises, lighting up. She squeezes Ava. “I’m so excited!”
Greez arrives with fajitas. Monk calls to Cal and he picks up the tray of drinks. Monk taps a large mug full of fragrant tea. “Help settle a racing mind,” he says.
Hmm, sounds like Merrin’s been talking. “Thanks, Monk.”
Cal shares dinner with his family, relaxing into the present moment. Cal feels the pull, hears the past’s siren song. He ignores it. Not tonight. No past to sink into, no future to worry about. Just fajitas, tea, and good conversation.
And the idea of Kata riding around Koboh on a nekko.
Maybe he’ll stay in town tomorrow, keep an eye, make sure the nekko stays calm… maybe make the nekko stay calm…
Something cracks against his shin. He bites back any reaction. Merrin gives him a look. Cal can feel his shoulders up near his ears. Forcing them down, he takes a long sip of tea. Settle a racing mind. Okay.
He can do that.
Day by day, slowly but surely, he will be a better Jedi.