It had been some time since Marek wore anything outside of his order robes but his destination wasn’t exactly a place warm to the Jedi. He donned his ‘normal people clothes’, jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket, and concealed his lightsaber within his sleeve. Once packed, he walked to the dormitory next to his and gave three quiet knocks. Initiate Tilia Caraway opened the door, dressed casually as well; if there was a weapon on her, Marek couldn’t see it.
“You ready to head out? Shuttle leaves in twenty”, he asked quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping initiate in the dorm. Tilia gave a nod.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Neither of them were ever keen to plan for failure but this trip was a failsafe in every sense of the word. The empire was closing in on the Taris subsector and, while they remained hopeful the republic could hold off Malak, the two of them had just seen a whole planet nearly glassed. A planet just a step away from their homeworld.
Marek had said his goodbyes long ago and the separation from his friends and family was something he thought he was ready to live with until the threat of them being wiped away in an instant became a very real and very present thing. Tilia had left on a slightly less appealing note, falling more into ‘estrangement’ from her family than ‘peaceful separation’.
Both were equally as perturbed.
Stepping off the shuttle, no one was waiting for either of them. They were just two people on a trip to one of the shittiest holes in the galaxy. The two fell into the force quickly, becoming aware of their surroundings, the people around them, the feelings around them. It was clear that nothing was stable about them. Anxiety, depression, and panic filled the air as easily as nitrogen. Not much had changed, altogether.
The planet enveloped them and they, quickly, became a part of the Tarisian population once more, if only for a day. They were eager to show one another the sights the other didn’t see. Tilia came from an affluent family, a Tarisian ale empire, and lived on a part of the planet Marek never even had legal access to. Marek grew up several floors below the surface on a part of the planet no one should legally be forced to reside.
They started with the Upper City, Tilia’s home turf. Their first stop was a warehouse. Marek was excited to see that an upper city warehouse wasn’t held together by balsa wood and electrical tape. She gave him the grand tour of the Caraway Ale Corporation™. Management, stock, loaders, every employee within seemed to recognize Tilia. Some looked with adoration, some intimidation, some looked like they needed a smoke break.
The two conversed with the warehouse manager while Marek tried to wrap his head around the fact that there was more than one warehouse and more than one warehouse manager within the corporation. Tilia and she chatted for a while, a clear familiarity between them, before ultimately ending on a pleasant note:
“Nothing too extravagant, four crates to the republic outpost on Viscara, Outpost Hope. And… two?”, She looked up to Marek who was still in the midst of capitalism whiplash, and he offered a slow nod.
“Two crates to the Jedi order on Viscara.”
As they left, Marek released a long breath of relief, free of the viper pit of corporation life but still giddy from getting to step where all the fancy folk step. Before departing the Caraway Ale grounds, Marek made sure to actually purchase, with credits not clout, three bottles of the ‘Caraway Reserve Deluxe’, a fancy bottle, a fancy name, and it even came in a wooden box with fancy text. Did it smell fancy? No one knows.
They wandered a bit, grabbing some Upper City cuisine, perusing souvenir shops. Marek purchased a few t-shirts that read ‘I went to Taris and all I got was this lame cure for Cathington’s Disorder’. He also managed to find a ‘Tarisian Aloe Plant’. It looked like an aloe plant but the florist assured him it was ‘special’. It was good enough for his purposes. Tilia made a singular purchase: a snowglobe of the upper city of Taris that was, roughly, the size of a modern huttball. They had all of their purchases sent directly back to the cargo storage on their shuttle.
It was then that the two made the real first stop, the first step of their trip that wasn’t just a distraction keeping them from the big steps. The two made their way to Caraway Manor. The estate grounds were lavish, especially for a planet that had been mined into toxic waste. Tilia asked that Marek wait in the foyer as she met with her parents for one final chat.
He waited… and waited… he ran his finger across a corner of the room he was certain would have dust. It did not. He paced. He meditated. He spoke with a butler, whom Marek assumed, initially, was probably a sibling Tilia didn’t tell him about. He was not. The man was courteous enough in explaining his place within the manor and even apologized to Marek before stepping swiftly back to his duties.
Capitalism was hitting the Padawan in the skull with a sledgehammer made out of solid gold.
He felt tension two floors above him but this was to be expected. After a while, it lessened but never left and Tilia reappeared, alone, and let out a heavy sigh. The pressure didn’t follow her for long as she fell back within the force.
“So that could have gone worse but it could have gone a lot better”, she stated as she hopped down the final three steps.
“That sounds like family. Did you say what you needed to?”
“I did. Thanks for hanging out here while… that happened.”
Marek gave a nod and the two made their way to their next destination.
“Wait until they find out that they’re missing six crates of one of our best vintages.”
Marek paused and turned to Tilia with a raised brow
She gave a smile and an assurance that ‘it was fine’. Marek almost looked like he believed her.
As the two took a taxi towards the lower city, the smell became noticeably worse and worse. It was not gradual but rather as if there were checkpoints designating a horrible scent getting more horrible.
“I think I was scent blind when I was a kid”, Tilia said.
Marek smiled back to her. “You forgot how bad the lower city smells? That’s impressive. I swear I still smell it on Viscara, sometimes. Like it’s glued in my nose.”
Eventually, the taxi let the two off and they made their way to an immense structure, something so gargantuan that it surely must have existed for the singular purpose of holding star destroyers: A Tarisian apartment complex. They walked for a long while… and then longer… even Marek checked the time with raised brows as he recalled just how long the journey was to his old home.
Several floors underneath the surface, a door opened. A tall brunette with ice blue eyes opened the door with a miniature teenaged version of herself standing behind. She wasted no time embracing Marek in a hug, holding back the tears that ought not be shed considering they were both ‘fine’ with the separation. Marek returned the hug and wrapped around to bring his younger sister in, as well. He introduced the two to Tilia: Margaret and Sydney Telokki. Tilia was introduced to them and the name was clearly recognized.
“Like ‘Taris’ finest single malt ale, barrel aged by some ancient saint for three years’ Caraway?”, Margaret asked.
Tilia’s eyes found the floor and she quietly gave a ‘yes’ before explaining her separation from the family. Margaret was quick to wave it off as a joke, welcoming them both within.
The apartment was small, almost small enough to make one question how in the world three giants lived within at one point. Tilia was, clearly, mulling this quandary over.
The conversation seemed to pick up on a point held years prior. Marek and his family were discussing the Mandalorian war as if it were still going on with Marek assuring his mother that ‘those dirty mandos’ were people just like them. His sister just stared at Tilia, rolling her eyes as if to say ‘welcome, I bet you regret this’.
When Marek reminded them that they couldn’t be long, the conversation calmed down. Things unspoken seemed to remain unspoken, as if neither side was willing to admit they missed the other as much as they did, despite how obvious it was. They made a holocall to Sienn back on Viscara and Marek’s family seemed amazed to be speaking to a ‘real jedi’ for the first time in years. Marek and Tilia shared a scorned look.
His mother then added that she was even more amazed Marek had a friend.
Marek shared a scorned look with himself. Twice during the call, and after two more ‘real jedi’ comments from his sister, Marek reached out through the force and ruined his sister’s, clearly, styled hair. The two of them bickered at one another, briefly.
“You couldn’t last an -hour- Mar, what the kriff?” She tried to pull her hair back together.
“Blazes, you knew I was going to be here for a couple hours and spent three on your hair. You deserved that.”
“UGH! A year in the jedi order and you’re still such an ASS!”
“At least I have one.”
“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”
“And it hasn’t been a year quite yet.”
“Ooooh my jings, Tilia is he still totally impossible to even exist around or is this just something he reserves for us!?”
Marek burst out laughing before his sister joined in and the two shared a hug. Tilia looked confused but stepped into frame long enough to offer Sienn a ‘Helloooo’.
The call ended, the night quieted down. No one wanted to speak the unspoken. Marek’s mother didn’t want to believe that Malak was heading straight for them as the news said he was. Marek held on to hope and truly believed, or forced himself to, that they’d hold back the empire before they reached Taris. Neither of them brought it up.
His mother sent them off gently. Quick hugs were given by all to all. His mother was teary eyed as Marek filled the doorway. They stared at one another for seconds that could have been years before he broke the silence:
“May the force be with you both… be with all of us. Goodnight… and good luck.”
The two made their way down halls that seemed even longer on the way back. They waited for a taxi in silence. During the ride back to the spaceport, it was Tilia’s turn to break a silence.
“Your family… they seem really nice. Wholesome, even. Never really got to see a lot of that growing up”, she said as the scent slowly got better and better.
“That is a shame, Tilia. I’m sorry.” His response was quick and hung in the air as if it was meant to be continued. The silence returned for a long bit of their journey before Tilia spoke again.
“I’m glad I have the order now.”
“And it’s been a pleasure having you with the order.” His response seemed automated, robotic. If there was something on his mind, his face didn’t show it. Practice made perfect.
“Marek… how are you feeling after all that?” She finally asked.
He turned to regard her for a moment before his eyes fell on the massive sprawling city-planet behind her. Those eyes began to well with tears as he averted his gaze to look outside his taxi window.
“I feel like we have our work cut out for us”, he said after a minute.
They boarded the shuttle in silence, departed the spaceport in silence, and stared at Taris for the last time, in silence.