A few weeks later, I was swaggering down the halls, thinking to myself: “Hell, yeah! I'm the man!” Surely, you can't blame me for walking the walk after – yes, you guessed it – solving the “salad problem.”
Unsurprisingly, the new mix took some getting used to, not to mention some explosive animosity that nearly caused me to trade blows with some nutcase who couldn't bear to be parted from his regular tasteless mix of romaines and iceberg greens. But, all resistance to our new spicy, textured, flavorful salad vanished when Leah had a few bites of it and started praising it to no end. I'd guessed right too: the spiciness of the salad also meant people took less, meaning a week's supply really did last a week – without the dreaded Low Salad Day. With one fell swoop, I ensured the base's salad supply and managed to stay within budget.
It was then with good justification (and with much pride) that I was awarded, in the hallowed halls of the dining room, the Excellence in Service medal. Yes! All my work, all my efforts, and my very existence was validated. My service was being recognized! I'm truly fighting for the Powaah! I was making a difference! I knew I was on the right path! I was doing Something with my life! I was a Somebody!
With my position at the base no longer in doubt, I relaxed into my cooking duties, starting to whip up whatever the hell I wanted. Stews, soups and breads started to pop up on the menu, with nary a complaint about sensitive-this, or allergen-that, or even the previously inescapable I-can-only-eat- raw-things-that-have-no-face-and-have-no-grains. Nope, I'd only have to puff my chest to show my shiny medal pinned to my lapel, and that would be the end of all the whining. Of course, I didn't (or, at least, I tried my best to not) let the medal get to my head, knowing full well how fickle the winds of newly minted success could be. So, whenever I caught a whiff of unhappiness with my cooking whims, I made sure to throw in a few of the regular hits and used my smoke essence liberally – in retrospect, some might say with abandon.
Having finished prepping for the dinner service well ahead of time (running the blender to make protein slurries wasn't the most taxing of menus), and with the kitchen pretty much clean and all set to go, I decided there wasn't much point in having the kitchen crew stare at each other as we twiddled the time away; so, I waved them off, and told to them to chill out and come back before dinner-time. After the kitchen had cleared out, I looked quickly around to make sure nothing would catch fire, and I too decided to take a nice afternoon break.
Not sure what to do with my free time, I wandered in the general direction of the rec room. Maybe I'd watch a flick or take a nap on the sofa. I yawned happily at the thought. That would be nice. A nice siesta would do me some good. Or maybe I'd play a hand of cards with someone there. It could be a good chance for me to win back the credits I'd lost the last time. As a matter of fact, I could hear a group playing raucously now, as I neared the rec room.
A few feet from the entrance, however, I froze, my stomach contorting into excruciating knots, as my face burned and I overheard their conversation:
“...it'll pass, it'll pass. Don't worry.”
“Fuck, no one likes the food he makes. Give us the old stuff and I'll be happy.”
“It's his time. We all get it at some point.”
“Can't wait for that skinny loser to crash and burn.”
“Yeah, he'll be put in his place soon, and we'll be back to having what we want.”
“His smoked food is good though. Gotta hand him that. Dunno how he does it.”
“Some kind of bottled shit, you moron. It's not like there's a smoker on the base.”
“Whatever, I've seen you stuff your face with it.”
“Only to hide the taste of the other crap he puts out. Shit, I'm starving these days.”
“I give it another week and things will be back to normal.”
“I want him to stop wearing that dumb fucking medal. Doesn't he know that everyone has one of those?”
“Probably not. He's wearing the thing all the time like it means something.”
...Suddenly, I no longer felt the need for a nap. Suddenly, I no longer felt like going to going to rec room. With my blood throbbing in my ears, I was thankfully no longer able to hear the banter from the rec room. My chest sagged with the weight of the medal that had brought me so much pride and meaning, but was now stupidly pinned to me. I slinked away as silently as I could, struggling to take controlled breaths, desperately wanting to disappear.
As I hid my face in my trembling hands, I fought my nerves to keep my knees from buckling. What the fuck? What the fuck was going on? This wasn't really happening right? Hadn't I been doing important work? Hadn't I dedicated myself to a right and just cause? Didn't this have meaning? Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Maybe they weren't talking about me. Maybe it was someone else. Right. I was the only head chef in the kitchen who used smoke-essence. Chef! Ha! Who the fuck was I kidding? What was I doing here? Was anything I'd done worth it? This was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to be part of something... Hahahaha...
...I lurched violently back from the sight of green blood splashing in front of me... I almost screamed as I saw Greido's entrails oozing in my hands... That was me wasn't it? Hahahaha. I did those things, right? Hahahaha. But, we all did it. We all took part. We all had to serve Powaah now. That's right, of course. It was for the Powaah, that made it right...
...It's okay. It's okay. It was just the light. Hahahaha.... A trick of the light. That's all it was. The artificial lighting makes everything look a little green. I propped myself against the wall, and focused away from my memories, and struggled to remember... anything, really, anything else. Anger! There was lots to be angry about! This was the Empire's fault! This was Jubba's fault! They are the oppressors! They did this to me! I got this medal for fighting them! Medal? Oh, fucking piece of shit... I'm a fucking moron... Hahahaha...
Feeling my resolve wavering, I resorted to mechanically muttering a Powaah mantra,
“O, Powaah. I trust you. I will walk your path, and not the path of fear. For fear is the path to the dark side. I am of the Powaah. We are of the Powaah. The Powaah is with me.”
My breathing slowed and became easier, as I calmed myself down and gratefully felt my memories recede back into a far, far corner in my head. Straightening my back, I clasped my hands together as tightly as I could to stop their shaking. No. No, I resolved: I was not here for nothing. I was not doing something meaningless. I affirm it! I affirm it!
My confidence and sanity somewhat restored, I realized that it had all been a test. Of course. I've heard of many people on the base undergo trials like this. This clearly was mine. This was an opportunity for me to see that I had been getting too comfortable in the kitchen. The Powaah was showing me that it was time to move on. Yes! I knew it. I felt it in my heart. The Powaah was telling me, in fact, that it was my time for what I always wanted: a part in the action, the real action; it was my turn to be a fighter!
Before I could convince myself otherwise, I marched to the base's main office in a daze. I could hear voices in there, and wondered for a moment if I should come later, but, no, this couldn't wait! I knocked on the door with a determination I hoped would continue in the coming conversation.
“Come in,” Leah's muffled voice answered.
I nearly lost my nerve when I opened the door to not only Leah, but Alice as well; they were both sitting at the desk with a dozen datapads laid out in front of them, going over our reviews – including mine.
“Oh hi, Tim. How can I help you?” Leah's smile gave me the strength to ignore Alice's irritated frown. This was Leah. I knew her. Most importantly, I knew she could help me. With that in mind, I found the nerve to say,
“H-hi L-leia, hi Alice. Sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute?” Ok. I got that far. I could do this. I willed myself some super-alloyed steel balls to force out the next part, “I'd like to be reassigned from the kitchen.”
“Tim, we've got other...” Alice groaned, rolling her eyes, but was quieted d
own by Leah (see how wonderful she is?).
“Of course, Tim. Is there a problem? I thought you liked it there. You're doing so great in the kitchen, we awarded you an Excellence in Service medal,” Leah said quizzically, though with reassuring patience and kindness.
I swallowed the anger welling at the thought of my foolish, childish pride at the silly trinket still on my jacket. This was obviously part of my trial. I decided not to open that can of worms and concentrate on my goal, which I knew would be difficult enough, “E-everything is going well, hahahaha... sure. And I'm very happy and proud to have been recognized for my service. But... but I'd like a change and try something new.”
“Something new? But we love what you do in there, Tim! Your smoked logs are so good, aren't they Alice?” Leah beamed at me, as Alice mumbled something about mysterious incidents of groin rashes going around the base that I probably didn't want to hear.
“Th-thank you, Leah, hahahaha...” Her praise never failed to fill me with happiness, but I didn't let it distract me. “Really. I'd like a change. I've made a request before and...”
“There's always room in maintenance. They could always use some help,” Alice interrupted, picking up a datapad, ready to sweep me away with a few flicks of her fingers.
“No. No, I'd really like to...”
“Or inventory? They're always short-handed too,” Alice offered sweetly, reaching towards another pad.
“No! None of those!” I said a tad too forcefully, creating a momentary uncomfortable pause in the room. “Sorry.”
“What would you like, Tim? Please tell us,” Leah broke the silence, looking serious now.
I took a deep breath: “I would like a combat role. I've applied for it before and you said that...”
“Tim, I've told you already that you're on the list. Look, we've got a lot...” Alice snapped impatiently.
“I want to be part of the fight...”
“So do lots of other people. There's a long list...”
“What list? What list are you talking about?”
“There's a selection process that...”
“I've seen lots of people get roles before me!”
“It's not that simple, Tim. There are physical assessments...”
“I passed all the tests! I'm tired of jumping through your hoops!”
“Everyone has to! Even I had to...”
“I want my chance!”
“OKAY! That's enough!” Leah silenced our bickering. “Tim, can you tell me what you were hoping for?”
“I just want my chance at the fighting,” I said as calmly as I could. “I know I'm not the strongest in the base, but I know I scored well on...”
Alice rolled her eyes again, interrupting me with a dismissive, “This is a waste of time...”
“Let him finish,” Leah said firmly, motioning me to go on – and, incidentally, keeping me from starting another fight with Alice.
“I know I'm not the strongest physically,” I started again, ignoring Alice's scowl. “But I know I scored strongly on the other skills. I want a chance to fight with the others. I'm tired of being in the kitchen...”
“We need to eat too, y'know...” Alice huffed.
“DAMN IT! I'm more than that! I've worked hard. I've put in my time. I know what people say... that I'm just a skinny weakling who's only good at cooking, who'd be cannon fodder. No, I know it! I've heard it! I'm more than that! I've trained hard. I've suffered like everyone else. I'm more than a cook. I want to fight. I want to do my part. I want to show everyone what I'm made of. I want my chance! Just a chance... that's all I ask...”
There was a moment of silence, as Leah and Alice let me recover my breath. Someone passed me a tissue. I blew my nose noisily and continued standing awkwardly, feeling as if I had too many limbs than I knew what to do with. Ok, this wasn't exactly as I'd seen this conversation going. I suppose one might say I had something of a meltdown, but, to be fair, I've had enough of Alice's condescending put downs; and, the truth was that meltdowns got results – as I hoped still held true from our time at the Center.
Sure enough, the benefits of wigging out proved itself when my quiet sniffling was broken with, “Ok, Tim. Ok. I can see you're unhappy with how things are going,” Leah soothed, studying me carefully for any risk of further freak-outs. “I think we can arrange something for you.”
“What? There isn't any...” Alice sputtered, but quickly shut up with a flick of Leah's wrist.
“Let's see here,” Leah said, rummaging around the datapads. “Ah. Here it is. Can you fly a shuttlecraft?”
“Yes! I got my license when I was sixteen!” I exclaimed with growing hope.
“Excellent! We need someone to fly a shipment for us...”
“I can do it!” I shouted.
“Haha... Ok. I know you can, Tim,” Leah grinned. “It isn't very glamorous, but, then again, it isn't very safe either. You could get caught by the Imperials, and you know what that means.”
“I'm up for it!” I beamed, my chest bursting with confidence.
“I know you are, I know you are,” Leah continued tolerantly, as she tapped on a datapad. “You'll have to leave in a few hours though. That should be enough for you to get a briefing from the quatermaster and get your equipment. Can you do that? Can you pass your duties to someone else in the kitchen?”
“A few hours?” Wow! This was serious! Leah wasn't messing around! I can't let her down now! “Yes, of course! It'll take me a few moments to get my things together. And... and I can let... I can let James. No, Kim! Kim can take over for me. She knows what to do. I only have to...”
“Great. Great, Tim.” Leah said, quieting me down with a brief hug. “I'm glad you came by. Good luck on your mission. May the Powaah be with you.”
“Thank you! Thank you so much! May the Powaah be with YOU!” WOO! WOO! WOO! I'm going on a mission! I'm going on a real bonafide mission! How fan-fucking-tastic was that!?!
It didn't take me very long at all to clear out my bunk, and brief Kim in on her new role; she was, I'm pleased to say, suitably impressed with my going on a mission. Soon after that, in a rapid flurry, I was in front of the quatermaster, half-listening to the regular drone about security and making sure I didn't lose any of the equipment I was signing out or else I'd have to pay for it.
The mission itself seemed pretty simple: all I had to do was fly a shuttlecraft to a rendez-vous planet, drop off a shipment, pick up another shipment, and then drop that one off to another planet. Easy-peasy... But very dangerous, of course. Very dangerous and exciting. Not anybody could do this, you know. I'd been chosen for a sensitive task.
Not without some smugness, I flashed my mission-log to the hangerbay guard, who, despite his skepticism, had no choice but to let me in with my little dufflebag containing my few belongings. As I walked in though, aiming to head to my shuttle and check everything for take-off, a loud party distracted me: a mixed crowd of fighter-pilots, mechanics and maintenance staff were gathered around a star-fighter, laughing, cheering, and happily slapping each other's back. What was going on there? They seemed to be listening to someone...
“TIM! DUUUUDE!” I was suddenly trapped in a huge bear-hug and found myself lifting off the ground.
“MIKE!!! SHIIIIIIIIT!” I cried out, recognizing the bastard immediately after a few struggling gasps. A torrent of relief, glee, and joy gushed out of me as I tearfully hugged Mike back. This couldn't be any more perfect! Mike was here to see my glorious moment of going out on a mission!
“Mike, I can't believe it's you!” “Tim, buddy! Fucking hell!”
“When'd you get back?” “What are you doing here?”
“I'm heading out, dude!” “Just got back from a mission!”
“Nice! Tell me about it!” “You're what?”
We broke down laughing, excitedly stumbling on each other's words. I couldn't help noticing Mike's worn and battered look when he released me from his embrace; the last mission must have been a long one. Looking a
t me curiously, Mike asked, “What do you mean you're heading out? You mean, like a mission?”
My face split into a massive, beaming grin, and I showed him my mission-log with all the exciting deets of my many adventures to come, “Yeah! Check it out! I'm leaving in forty minutes! Man, it's great to see you. There's so much to tell you, but it can wait till later, I guess.”
“You're leaving in an hour?” Mike frowned, staring at the log. “This was issued today. And it looks like not even two hours ago...”
“Hell, yeah!” I pumped my fist in the air.
“This is strange. It should take a few days...” Mike said with a concern that I didn't think was in keeping with my mood.
“Dude! Chill! I spoke to Leah and that twit Alice, and they gave me this posting!” I crowed. Feeling a strong urge to move on, and get my mission rolling, I pointed to the crowd, “Let's check out what's going on there!”
“It's just Louke and something he dragged in from outside,” Mike muttered disinterestedly, still studying my log. “I didn't think they'd move this quickly for this...”
“Louke's back? Shit, why didn't you say so?! Come on! Let's go see him!” I all but dragged Mike closer to the crowd to hear what Louke was saying. Man, what a great perk! Now that I'm part of combat crew, I'll get to hear Louke's stories fresh from his missions, rather than a re-warmed version that probably had all the good parts sanitized from it.
The moment we got within earshot of Louke's words, I wasn't disappointed to feel the familiar, excited tingling of the crowd earnestly listening to every snippet they could hear,
“...We snuck into the asteroid field, and we thought for a moment we'd lost the enemy fighters. And we were right, we did, but that wasn't all that we had to fear though,” Louke recounted, sitting on a wing of his starfighter, striking a classically warrior-like pose. Oh, good! I wasn't missing the good parts. I shouldered my way deeper into the crowd to hear Louke clearer, “Their heavy cruisers started launching depth charges into field!”
“Ooooooooo!” We cried out on cue to highlight our concern.
“Asteroids were bursting around us in! Boom! Boom! Boom! Blue leader was down!” Louke's eyes were wide open in fear, his nostrils flaring, as we too became jittery with anticipation. “With the cruisers and enemy fighters behind us, the only thing we could do was go deeper and deeper into the asteroids, flying as well as could.”
“Oh, no!”
“After a half an hour of navigating the asteroid field, we lost over half our fighters... But we made it! We made it!” Louke smiled, bringing the story to an abrupt end; he was probably going to add some embellishments in later versions. “A few days later, we returned back victorious from our raid! May the Powaah be with us!”
“May the Powaah be with us!” We repeated automatically.
“What about the beast! Tell us about the beast!” Someone piped up, wanting more.
“Well, isn't that another story!” Louke said, indulging the crowd and shaking his head as he settled into his next tale of heroism. “Can you believe this happened only earlier today?”
“Woooooow!” This was a fresh story! The thought that we were among the first to hear it was thrilling.
“We'd landed on Hawth and met up at the meeting point to regroup and make sure no one had tailed us,” Louke began, expertly setting up the context of the story and drawing us in. “I was the last to arrive, because this way I could make sure everyone leaves safely before me.”
“Of course! That's so great” We exclaimed approvingly of Louke's exemplary selflessness. What a guy Louke was! What a guy! Always putting his needs last. If only I could be like him.
“So with everyone safely away and headed to base, I did a once over of my fighter... but then... then I felt something creep up behind me,” Louke raised his eyebrows and scrunched his shoulders together, as he cast a dramatic look behind him.
“Ohhhh....” This was going to be exciting! Sounds like a big fight coming up!
“It was a snowbeast!” Louke yelled out, grabbing at us with his hands and getting a unified peal of excited surprise, before launching into a breathless narrative: “Thankfully though, I felt the evil thing with the Powaah. It was fast! It leapt on me, and pinned me down, but then I spun to the side, and managed to shake it off. Still it kept coming! I kicked it in the face, and I could see its terrible claws coming at me. It kept coming at me!”
Louke paused to catch his breath, as the unquestionable drama of Louke's story gripped us. We knew, however, the dramatic end was coming as he leaned in closer to us to start again, “I summoned up all the Powaah I had, struggled to pull my blaster out my holster, and blasted a hole into that dirty snowbeast's chest,” Louke's finale was met with cheers, as he jumped down from the fighter and began to point and kick at a greyish-white form on the ground.
Wait. What did Louke say? Snowbeast? What was he talking about?
The cheering around me made it hard to concentrate. I had to get closer. What did he mean “snowbeast?” There were only a small collection of lifeforms that were able to survive on Hawth, and they were all harmless. I guessed it was possible that something might be lurking out there – and, I was willing even to believe, was sent from the Empire – but the Wompas never told me about it, and they knew what happened on their planet.
Nudging closer to the edge of the circle, I could just barely see the body at Louke's feet, but everyone was still too animated and jumping around. The flurry of movement was aggravated by people now taking their turns taking selfies, crouching and making faces with Louke's kill. Just a little more, just a little more... and, with one big push at my back that I guessed was Mike, I was staring at the corpse of small, furry body, charred and bloody in areas by Louke's panicked plasma shots. Strangely, the snowbeast looked a lot like a Wompa, though much smaller. Strangely too, the beast had little decorative trinkets tied into its hair that had interesting star-burst patterns on them... I felt myself go numb. No. No...
“What should we do with it?”
“Let's mount it!”
“Yeah, let's skin the thing!”
“No one can mess with us!”
“All hail Louke!”
“He's a hero!”
This was crazy. It can't be her. It can't be. I tried to block it out of mind, desperately trying to convince myself otherwise, but my eyes fixed themselves on my Powaah-rosary still wrapped around Carla's wrist. No... No... NO! This was insane! She probably wanted to play! Does Louke have any idea what Sylvie and Charlie will do to him when they find him? And they WILL find him. They'll string him up and tear him to pieces! I had to do something. I had to say something.
I ceased registering what was happening around me, as my mind slackened and resisted accepting the absurdity I was seeing. My hands twitched by my side, as I struggled to find the words or the right action. I could feel my hand drifting to my holster, reaching at my blaster, not knowing what I'd do with it, but surely something would come to mind... Before my hand could reach my blaster, I was roughly turned around and pushed away from the crowd. Mike had been watching me carefully throughout the whole incident, and had taken action before I could.
In an senseless blur, I was in the cockpit of a shuttlecraft that a distant part of me assumed was my own. As Mike buckled me in, I was lucid enough to hear Mike's parting words:
“I've programmed your shuttle to fly out on its own, so you should be fine. I put a few things in your jacket for later that should help. I guess this is it, ol'buddy,” Mike gave me a long hug. “You take care, Tim.”
I blanked out.
CHAPTER 14