Chapter 2: Smuggler's Moon

  To Tyron, Nar Shaddaa was more than just a planet.

  The Force echoed constantly, whispers of the present, past, and future, dancing around that rotting moon.

  A glance to the sides was enough to see the kind of people who traveled to that place: refugees, smugglers, assassins, mercenaries, soldiers, and even ladies of pleasure. However, each one had a story to tell, a burning desire to continue living.

  That constant flow of energy, where the Force swirled thanks to so many conflicted individuals, allowed Tyron to hide naturally. No one could detect a Jedi in the midst of so many lost souls. Even a tracker from the Old Republic would have had trouble finding him.

  The former Jedi closed his eyes and let himself be carried away by the thoughts of all the poor wretches who ended up living on that moon of oblivion. He could hear laments from the past, stories that ended in tragic endings; but also malicious smiles, successful tricks and even moans of pleasure, produced by the lower passions of the flesh.

  Nar Shaddaa was all that and more.

  Life and death.

  Past and future.

  Black and blacker.

  Even so, Tyron could not help but smile.

  The flow of infinite feelings gave a particular life to the planet, as if all the echoes formed a collective consciousness capable of filling some void in the heart.

  It was for that reason that Tyron decided to come to Nar Shaddaa, a place that always caught his attention since he was a child. He loved being in contact with people, feeling their emotions and understanding them in his own way in order to be able to help them.

  —I wonder what job I should accept now? —The boy arrived at his room, an apartment located near the special port. Nothing too ostentatious, but not a pigsty full of shit either. The place had a small dining room with two roughly carved wooden chairs, the bathroom did not present any major problems and further back, a white bed served as a resting place for the Renegade Jedi.

  Tyron took off his black hood, deciding to place it on the improvised coat rack that Dango had given him the day he took his contract. Then, he laid his humanity on the bed and stared at the gray ceiling indefinitely.

  "This is not how I imagined my life," Tyron whispered.

  Being hidden in a hole full of regrets made him want to go back. Maybe leaving the Jedi Order was not the best choice, maybe he chose his path too quickly when he did not see his goals fulfilled.

  "No, I did well."

  The young ex-Jedi remembered the face of his precious teacher, Aelira.

  She had blonde hair, blue eyes and a white complexion like the snow of Hoth. He met her in the outer prairies of Dantooine, her face was the first memory that Tyron could visualize. The boy was an orphan, he lived in the prairies collecting fruits to eat, from time to time, the locals supported him by giving him food or coins and he responded with small physical jobs. It was not a pleasant existence, but he was not unhappy either.

  Then, everything changed.

  One quiet morning, dozens of ships arrived on the green planet; they were Jedi researchers who came to explore the ruins of a temple abandoned thousands of years ago. Aelira was the newest of the padawans, she was barely 15 years old, ten years older than little Tyron at that time. When they met, the infant had a divine revelation, he stared at the woman in a daze and immediately felt a special connection.

  “The Force”

  That mystical field reacted in him for the first time.

  He had never felt so alive as he did then and probably, he would never feel that way again.

  —Y-You, what is your name? —The blonde woman approached little Tyron.

  —T-Tyron Laren —answered the boy —. And you?

  —I am Aelira, it is a pleasure to meet you. —The young padawan smiled sweetly, she was so beautiful that even the infant Tyron could not help but blush with embarrassment —. You can feel the Force, I knew it just by seeing you, y-you have a presence different from everyone else. Come with me, I will take you to my companions so they can see you.

  —Wait, what are you talking about, what is the Force, why did you come to these meadows?

  —The Force is an energy field that surrounds all living beings, I am a Jedi, like my explorer friends. Have you heard of us?

  “I don't know what a Jedi is…” the boy whispered, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.

  “Jedi are guardians of peace and harmony, we are in charge of maintaining balance in the universe using the Force as our ally.” Aelira levitated some pieces of grass in front of the little boy, the small leaves danced in circles before being carried away by the wind.

  For 5-year-old Tyron, that demonstration meant a total change in his perception of reality. His little eyes sparkled with excitement and after thinking about it carefully (3 seconds) he said the phrase that would change his life forever.

  “Can I do that too?” the boy whispered.

  “Yes, that's why I spoke to you, Tyron, you can become a Jedi…”

  The memory of the former Jedi returned to reality.

  It would be useless to remember the distant past.

  “It's been 20 years since then.”

  . . .

  The next morning, Tyron woke up late.

  It was almost noon when he left his apartment in search of something for breakfast. He walked through the busy streets of Nar Shaddaa towards the business: “The Sweet Wookie”, a restaurant known for its exotic variety of foods.

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  The place was not unlike a cantina, it had a counter where the cashier took orders and dozens of tables distributed throughout the place. Tyron approached the main employee, an older man with a tired appearance, his head was full of gray hair and the wrinkles gave him no respite.

  “Greetings, I want a hamburger, please.” Tyron ordered the usual, the old man just nodded and pointed to one of the empty tables to wait there.

  While he waited, Tyron took a quick look at the other customers.

  Unlike Dango's cantina, this place was “safer”, as there were no illegal activities taking place. Most of the customers were employees of nearby businesses, families, or people waiting to board the next transport.

  “There are places like this on Nar Shaddaa too, I guess there are honest people everywhere.” A weak smile appeared on the former Jedi’s lips, the calm that was breathed in the establishment was a breath of fresh air for all the evil that the Smuggler’s Moon could offer.

  Seconds later, Tyron’s order arrived and without further delay, he calmly ate his food. The taste was nothing out of this world, enough to keep him from hunger until the afternoon. After eating the burger, he approached the cashier, paid his bill, and then returned to the congested streets.

  “I should look for a new employer, working so much with Dango can be counterproductive in the long run. But here there are only crime lords and outlaws from other planets. Being a bounty hunter doesn’t sound bad, after all, the vast majority of employers want the prey alive, not dead. A corpse is worthless, anyone could present a deceased and pass it off as the target. Well, I should find a union to join.

  However, Tyron's thoughts were interrupted when in the distance, he heard a cry for help.

  — Leave me alone! — a female voice exclaimed.

  Those present ignored the conflict, as they did not meddle where they were not called. Only Tyron had the decency (and courage) to go see what was happening.

  A young woman with white hair, green eyes like the trees of Dantooine and pale skin, was being grabbed by some soldiers in blue uniforms. They did not look like bounty hunters or thugs; they were too well equipped to be considered scum. In total, there were four human males, two holding the girl by the wrists and legs, while her other two companions guarded the scene with assault rifles.

  ?Those are not the New Republic's regulation blasters, but they are not illegal either. They must be older models, DC-15A probably.

  The woman didn't seem to be a criminal, she was struggling and screaming for help with all her might, but no one lifted a finger to support her. She couldn't blame them, without the proper context and given the appearance of her pursuers, anyone would think it was official business.

  — Don't touch me! Help! —the girl exclaimed, then began to cry as she struggled. The helpless tears stained the sleeves of the uniformed men.

  —Stop moving, damn it. —One of the captors released the girl's legs and then pulled a blaster pistol from his holster. —I'd stun you, but then we'd have to carry your body for a long time. What if we just executed her here?

  The girl's green eyes widened, more tears running down her pale cheeks.

  —N-No, wait, don't kill me... I'm worth more alive —she begged.

  —Yes, for once, our lord will be pleased if we bring only her head.

  Very well, he could not see any more.

  He was thinking of letting this incident go if it was an arrest, but a murder against someone unarmed was something he could not allow.

  —Excuse me, soldiers, but killing a defenseless woman is not something a good leader would order. Could you please let her go?

  —Get out of here, this is official business on Onderon.

  —You are far from Onderon, here on the Smuggler's Moon, business is not usually very honest. —Tired of the Jedi's arrogance, they fired their weapons with the intention of killing.

  They did not even give a second warning or a premeditated insult.

  Nothing, they shot at the chest and head respectively.

  Cold and relentless precision. The sound of the blaster echoed and caused screams from the witnesses who threw themselves to the ground to avoid receiving stray fire.

  The warriors of Onderon were veterans hardened by constant civil wars and the dangerous fauna that lived beyond their walls. They trained since childhood in order to survive, for them, blasters were part of their bodies, fundamental tools that allowed them to continue existing.

  At that distance and with the element of surprise, two expert shooters would never miss. They had made that shot more than a thousand times during training, an ode to discipline.

  However, they missed.

  Tyron stepped aside very easily. He only had to move his torso a few centimeters to the right.

  The energy projectiles crashed into a nearby wall, breaking apart at the first contact and burning the metal surface.

  — Huh? — one of the soldiers snorted, incredulous at such a feat.

  — Hey, don't fire your weapon in a place as crowded as this. — Tyron stretched out his left hand, in doing so, both shooters were pushed back by an energy they did not know: "The Force"

  — Ugh! —The Onderon soldiers suddenly fell to the ground, dropping their weapons thanks to the force of the impact and without further delay, Tyron unsheathed his lightsaber. The blue blade illuminated the shadowed streets of Nar Shaddaa, it was like seeing a star in the middle of outer space.

  —N-It can't be... —The soldiers holding the girl were left with their mouths open. They released the white-haired girl and pointed their weapons at Tyron in the hope of intimidating him.

  —J-Jedi —one of them whispered.

  ?Suspicious, judging by your reaction, it seems that this is not the first time you have seen a Force user.?

  —You better leave, you have no chance against me. Value your lives, return to your families and everything will be fine. —Tyron did not like killing people, the Force was a power designed to protect the innocent, not to cause evil. Still, he did not have a vision as idealistic as the Jedi Order; If he had to take lives in self-defense or to prevent a greater evil, Tyron would do it without complaint.

  “Surround the Jedi, cover him.” The leader of the soldiers barked an order, immediately, his companions surrounded the knight in a circle and pointed at him.

  “Morons, why the hell do you think you can defeat me?”

  “Last chance, put down your weapons and go back to your families. Don’t you have children or wives?”

  Instead of reflecting on home, the military fired their blasters from four different angles.

  “Morons.”

  Unfortunately for them, a trained Jedi would not fall easily.

  Using the V “Shien” form, Tyron moved the glowing blade to his left side, in doing so, he repelled two of the shots that threatened to kill him. The other two failed, as the boy moved not only his arms, but also part of his torso in a quick movement of his waist that allowed him to escape unscathed from that shooting. Immediately, he charged at full speed against the leader of the military and without giving him a chance to react, he pierced his heart with the lightsaber.

  —Oh… —The pursuer moaned.

  Tyron pulled back the blue blade and quickly attacked the next soldier lying just to his right with a Force Push. The other warriors snapped to life as soon as they saw their leader fall dead; they immediately resumed their volley of shots at the Jedi's vital points. But they were repelled by the saber; the projectiles flew to strategic points: walls, neon signs and statues, never to the witnesses who lay on the floor so as not to be affected by the crossfire.

  — Fire! Fire! —They exclaimed fervently.

  The death of their leader only infuriated them.

  And for the same reason, they did not know how to react when Tyron returned the shots. It was an almost poetic maneuver; the two attackers were hit by an energy projectile right in the chest, dying instantly and without feeling unnecessary pain. A merciful death, worthy of a Jedi.

  The last soldier got up from the floor, saw his three companions and then made the most sensible decision…

  —Enough, I surrender, I surrender, I do not wish to die in this pigsty. —As a sign of submission, the pursuer threw his blaster to the floor and walked with his hands raised towards Tyron.

  —You do well. —The Jedi turned off the glowing blade, then, using the same chains that they were planning to put on the girl, tied the hands of his former adversary and finally, snatched the credits he was carrying with him. —Free money for everyone!

  Tyron threw the coins in the air.

  With the danger over, the hungry and desperate mob rushed in as if there was no tomorrow.

  Everyone was fighting for the credits on the floor; but they also wanted the clothes of the corpses, their weapons, valuables and anything else that could be useful to them. The handcuffed enemy was lost in the crowd, but not the white-haired girl.

  —Let's go. —Tyron grabbed her arm and immediately, they blended into the sea of ??people…