Journey to Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

by Kevin Shinick

  Of course, Karr loved his grandmother. She was the light in his universe, but even so, there were days when his recent cloudy disposition would block that light. He had been working with her for a few years, and yet he felt no closer to becoming a Jedi than to becoming ruler of the galaxy. He was of the age where adults stopped appearing as adults and started appearing as peers. Flawed peers. And in moments of discontent, Karr would notice the cracks in a lot of J’Hara’s stories. Like how a Sith Lord could live to over five hundred years of age or how the Jedi could move objects or make people believe things using only their minds. Were they meant to be fables? Larger-than-life lessons merely intended to make an impact on the listener? Because if so, there was a word for that: myths.

  But they were also written about in history archives, so this confused him. Maybe the truth was somewhere in the middle. Perhaps the Jedi were wise people who had radical ideas of peace and were also good at wielding lightsabers. Maybe the idea that everyone was connected through an energy field was just a hopeful fantasy. Maybe the Jedi were just really good at convincing people of that.

  “Try again,” his grandmother said.

  Karr sighed. “It’s not working.”

  “It will,” she said with her usual confidence.

  “You always say that, but it never does. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I don’t have the Force. Maybe I have some sort of tumor or something that’s giving me these headaches and we’re wasting time with this when we should be finding a cure.”

  “That’s your mother talking.”

  “We’ve spent all this time learning about the Jedi and yet I can’t do anything they can do. I can’t make anyone say what I want them to say. I can’t fight someone using just my mind.”

  “Of course you can’t,” she argued. “And why would you want to? That is not the Force. Those are by-products of playing with the Force. You’re looking at it the wrong way. A Jedi does not want to fight. Jedi are the peacekeepers. They do what they do.”

  “Well, what I wanna do is give up!” he shouted as he threw the cup across the room, half hoping his grandmother would yell back and fully hoping that she would finally reveal some last hidden secret that would solve all his problems.

  But J’Hara did not take the bait. “I understand your frustration, my boy. I can’t claim to fully know what you are going through, for I am not like you. I do not possess any ability with the Force, but I am versed in it, and I am doing what I can to help you find your way.”

  “But how do you know about the Force?” he asked.

  For a moment her gaze went elsewhere. Inward, almost. And then she replied, “Like you, I found it around me. I asked questions. I was open to it. Do I have all the answers? No. Do I know more than most? Maybe. And so together we will take this journey and perhaps…find something wonderful.”

  Karr took a beat before asking the question he hadn’t had the heart to articulate any earlier. “What if I don’t want to be on this journey anymore?”

  He was almost afraid to look at J’Hara for fear he might have hurt her feelings. But when he did lift his gaze, he saw that she had the expression of someone who had been expecting that question for a long time. She turned to walk away, throwing out a casual, “You must do what you feel is right with the Force.”

  Karr grunted. Sometimes her serene personality had a way of enraging him. But he agreed to humor her one more time. One more time so he could justify abandoning all hope. “Fine! I’ll try to levitate it again.”

  “No,” said his grandmother, quickly turning back to him. “You’re angry. You want to destroy something. Very well. Destroy it! But do it from a place of calm. Not anger. Visualize it. Crush it.”

  Karr looked at the cup on the floor. It hadn’t cracked when he threw it across the room and that worried him. Just his luck that he picked the toughest cup in all the galaxy to try to crack.

  “Picture it,” his grandmother said. “Use the space around the cup to tightly condense your grip around it.”

  Karr looked at the cup. Then he closed his eyes and raised his hand. Concentrating. Using the Force. Focusing on the space around the cup. But it was hard. Harder than he wanted it to be. Harder than it had a right to be.

  “Concentrate,” said his grandmother again. A word he had begun to hate.

  Concentrate!

  He clenched his jaw tighter, but for every breath that seeped out of his mouth, a measure of doubt seeped into his brain.

  Concentrate!

  Karr couldn’t help thinking of all the holes in her stories. The confusing timelines, the convenient connections…

  Concentrate.

  The description of powers that no one had ever seen with their own eyes. That no one could attest to.

  Concentrate.

  The stupid act of trying to use imaginary powers to crush a stupid cup! She told him tales of Jedi levitating large objects, and yet he couldn’t even levitate a cup! Why? Because they were myths! They weren’t real! And he was no Jedi!

  Concentra—

  Karr spun toward his grandmother with an anger that he didn’t know had been festering for a few years. “I can’t do it!” he screamed. “I’m not a Jedi! There are no Jed—”

  But when he looked at J’Hara, the old woman was grabbing her chest and falling to the ground. “Grandmother!”

  J’Hara winced in pain and grabbed the nearby tablecloth, dragging it to the ground, plates crashing beside her. The sound of shattering glass confused Karr, since that was what this exercise was all about and yet something had gone horribly wrong. “What have I done?” cried Karr as he ran to her side. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  The old woman looked up at him weakly, but as always it was she who comforted him.

  “You didn’t do this, Karr. There is nothing to be sorry about. I am an old woman and this is the way of things,” she said, gasping for air. “I’m glad I had the honor of showing you who you are.”

  Karr’s mind raced as he tried to figure out some way to help her. But she didn’t seem to want help. She seemed proud. She seemed happy. At peace.

  “Don’t be sad. Continue your training. Go out in the galaxy to learn your place in it. I will still be on this journey with you.”

  And with a smile, she quietly passed away.

  Part of Karr knew that it was just J’Hara’s time to go. But he felt responsible. Had she spent so much energy on him that it weakened her? Had she devoted all that time to training him for nothing? Karr couldn’t live with that. And he became more determined than ever to prove that his grandmother was right. That he would become a Jedi.

  Karr opened the front door and leaned inside.

  “Hello?” he yelled, hoping that no one would respond. If no one was home, he wouldn’t have to explain why he was back from school in the middle of the day, or who Maize was, either. The place always seemed a little empty with his grandmother J’Hara gone—less like a home and more like a plain old house—but just this once, he was glad for the silence.

  “Come on in,” he said to Maize.

  He led the way directly to the living quarters, skipping the kitchen in case his mother hadn’t heard him come in. There was always a chance she might pop up out of nowhere to embarrass him with affection or worry.

  They were just getting settled when an older boy stepped into the living room. It was Karr’s brother, Trag, passing through. Trag was prepared to ignore whatever his little brother was doing until he saw Maize.

  “Who’s this?” he asked.

  “A friend.”

  When Karr didn’t volunteer any further information, Trag looked Maize up and down, shrugged, and retreated to his bedroom.

  “Let me show you something.”

  Before Maize could either agree or protest, Karr pushed aside a curtain in his own bedroom to reveal a closet full of seemingly random objects from all walks of life: belts, staffs, blasters, comlinks, helmets, and more—all of it meticulously cataloged. Scribbled on the walls and shelves bene
ath the objects were erasable flimsiplast notes with dates, like he’d been trying to map out a whole galaxy using just this oddball collection of stuff.

  “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Did you do all of this?”

  He couldn’t tell if she was impressed or horrified. “Yeah.” He cocked his head toward the shelves that held his treasures. “And some of these things have shown me their past.”

  Maize took a closer look. She gently picked up a kloo horn and turned it over in her hands. “How does it work?”

  “Well, you’ve seen it in action. Sometimes I touch something and everything gets loud and…and both bright and dark at the same time. It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of like being on fire, but then other things come through: voices, pictures, colors—and then…then I black out.”

  “Sounds horrible.”

  “It is, sometimes,” he said. “I’m still not sure what causes the flashes, but they’re always something big. It’s almost like some objects are witnesses and they want to tell me what they saw. Does that make sense?”

  Maize looked at him blankly, so he decided to keep talking.

  “Like this, for example,” he said, picking up a mouthpiece that looked so old it definitely shouldn’t go in anyone’s mouth. “This is an A99 aquata breather that belonged to a fishing merchant. The guy who sold it to me said that the merchant got it from a Jedi that used it for marine reconnaissance. I’d hoped it would show me something about the Jedi, but no matter how hard I concentrate, I can’t get it to zap me with a vision. So either it didn’t experience anything big—”

  “Or the guy was pulling your leg,” she interjected.

  “Pretty much.”

  “There’s a lot of people out there who will take advantage of you, Karr.”

  He ignored her and moved on. “But this, on the other hand…” He held up a wooden staff, or at least part of one. The top was a silver handle that looked like it had been smoothed in a furnace. The bottom was shattered and fragmented, indicating that it had been longer in its heyday. It was completely blackened and charred, but something kept it from crumbling.

  “The first time I touched it, I passed out, fell down, and chipped a tooth.” He flashed her an oversized, slightly jagged smile. “I thought for sure it must’ve belonged to a Jedi, because it affected me so strongly, but in the vision, at least from what I could tell, the owner didn’t wear traditional Jedi garb and I didn’t see a lightsaber anywhere. What’s weird, though, is that he clutched the staff as if it was one…and I swear I could hear him mumbling about the Force. And he was in the middle of what I think was a big battle.”

  Maize gave him a sideways glance. “You hear what you wanna hear, I guess.”

  Karr took slight offense. “Maybe. But I don’t always see what I want to see, otherwise I would’ve seen a Jedi by now, wouldn’t I? Anyway, I think that’s when I understood that the items that give me visions always show me things that are significant. Important,” he added, having found a better word. “Fortunately, the Jedi have seen a lot of action, so I search for their things specifically—with the added hope that I can also get a lesson out of the deal—but sometimes I’ll reach for random things as well just to see if they can show me anything.”

  “So you still haven’t seen any Jedi then? In life or in your visions,” she said.

  He deflated a little. “No. But they were real.”

  “But you can’t prove it,” she countered.

  “I don’t need to prove it. I know what’s true, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” he fibbed. “I swear there’s something in me that guides me toward this stuff. And it can’t just be an unhealthy interest!”

  “If you say so.”

  Maize slowly walked around the room, running her hands over a few objects as if checking them for dust. She stopped when she spied a datapad on his bed, the screen still faintly glowing. She picked it up and read aloud, “‘Antique Military Collector’s Guide.’ What did this tell you?”

  “That I’ve been overpaying for this stuff,” he said with a laugh. “I only got it a month ago, and I’ve been spending too many credits. Now I know better.”

  “You bought all of these things?”

  “No, not all of them. I found some. People gave me some. And yeah, I bought some. After a while I realized I might have some luck looking through junk shops, or bartering with pilots and tourists. Now this handy guide lets me know what something’s worth before I lose too many credits.”

  Maize stood with her hands on her hips. She paused and took everything in one more time, as if she was a judge about to present the award for Best Jedi Museum. Then, with an air of authority, she said, “I think you’re crazy.”

  Karr was about to argue with her again until he saw the smirk on her face. “I’m just teasing you. Sort of,” she added, sitting on a chair in his room. “Look, the truth is, I only know what I know from my family’s experience. CeSai did really well under the Empire. Then the New Republic kicked the Empire out, and there was no one left to run the planet. Everything fell apart. As for the Jedi, who knows who they were or what they did. I’ve always assumed it was folklore, but”—she looked at him with a glint of adventure in her eyes—“prove me wrong.”

  Karr liked the challenge but knew it was a difficult one. “If I could find one, I could ask him. But they all disappeared after the Clone Wars.”

  “Well,” Maize continued, “if you’re going to ignore the fact that they never existed, you might as well move to the next theory, which is that they were all killed by the clone troopers.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe the clone troopers could’ve killed some of them—but they couldn’t have gotten all of them. We’re talking about Jedi Knights, the best fighters in the galaxy. All these battles across the galaxy: Saleucami, Cato Neimoidia, Mygeeto, Kaller,” he recited, counting them off on his fingers. “We’re supposed to believe that the Jedi coordinated an uprising…and then they were immediately wiped out? No way. I don’t buy it.”

  She crossed her arms, then crossed her legs, too. “If they ever existed at all, there would be some sign of them, somewhere. Whole societies don’t just disappear into thin air.”

  A light went on in Karr’s brain. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought of it before. “They do if they’re Tusken Raiders.”

  “Tusken Raiders? What’s a Tusken Raider?”

  “The guy who sold me that set of goggles over there”—he flapped his hand toward a shelf with a label that read Neuro-Saav TD-series electrobinoculars—“he told me a story. At some point in time, due to shifting winds and soil erosion, the Sand People of Tatooine needed to migrate to a different part of their home planet. So a small tribe of them set out to find a better place where they could establish a new colony and be joined by the others at a later time. The group traveled for months before finding a spot that worked for them. But the trip was so long and supplies were so low that a lot of the tribe got sick. With very little food left, the older members convinced the head of the pack to go back to their original homeland and return with food and other necessities. And so he did. He left behind thirty males, seventeen females, and nine children, including his wife and daughter, and promised to return the following harvest with more people and supplies. A whole season passed before he could return, but when he did, he found the settlement empty. No signs of anyone. His wife, his daughter, the entire tribe…gone.”

  “Invaders?” asked Maize.

  Karr shook his head. “No sign of any. Legend has it there was nothing left at all, except a drawing of a mysterious figure etched on a stone,” he said, making his voice sound spooky.

  “Who was the mysterious figure?” she asked. “The one responsible?”

  “Nobody knows. But no one person could have taken down an entire village.”

  “So what’s your point?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes things just can’t be explained.”

  Maize stared blankly at Karr. “I can’t dec
ide if you really do have some incredible power…or if you’re just good at telling stories.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “What? It’s a lot to wrap my mind around.”

  Karr changed his approach. “I get it. You need facts. What about your dad’s drafting tool. Don’t you want to know what I saw?”

  Maize blinked her eyes with recognition. Clearly, with all the commotion that followed Karr’s collapse, she had completely forgotten to ask. She slid farther back in her seat. “This oughta be good.”

  “I’m not putting on a show, I’m just telling you what I saw. Let me hold it again.” He wiggled his fingers toward her, signaling her to throw it to him.

  “Go for it.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out the tool, and tossed it to him.

  It bounced against his chest, but he caught it with both hands and held it up to his forehead, trying to remember what he saw the way you try to remember a dream. If he could recall the image without having to pass out again, then all the better. Karr kept his eyes closed and held the tool close. “This was interesting,” he said. “It was definitely part of something big. I saw…stars, and so much darkness, it felt like death. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Maize rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that it came from the Death Star?” she said, meaning the Empire’s space station of long before. “My dad was never on the Death Star. He was a little kid when that thing blew up.”

  “I didn’t say it came from the Death Star. Everything felt…cold. Covered in ice and snow.” He squeezed the tool tighter and concentrated, but then he mostly saw a man—probably the one who’d given it to her. He took that guess and ran with it. “Your father has bright blue eyes, and he looks…younger than people think he is. He has a gray suit, and…and…black hair. He’s human. You’re only half Mirialan.”