The twin suns of Tatooine were moments away from rising. Not a murmur of noise was to be heard in the dusty streets around Mos Eisley. Inside the famous (or infamous, depending on your view) cantina many of the patrons were passed out from the previous evening’s festivities. Others sat in close proximity to each one another in dim corners. A couple of Jawas argued over prices in a nearby by booth. Deeper inside, at the end of the bar, sat a lone figure.
He wore old, poorly mended clothes. Occasionally light would hit the knife he was polishing and the blade would sparkle. His frighteningly pale skin contrasted sharply with his dark, nearly black hair. His green eyes had lost their one-time shine. Zekk waved the bartender over.
The wizened old man plodded over, keeping a watchful eye on the cantina’s more violent customers. “What can I do for you today?”
Zekk traced his knife along the counter. “Heard anything new about the monks?”
“Nothing new since you asked me last week.” The bartender replied. “Besides, you’ve probably already gotten all the information available on them.”
“There’s always more where they’re concerned.” Zekk said.
“True, true. But as it stands, I have nothing to tell you.”
Zekk stood. “See you next week, old man.”
He was gone before the bartender had a chance to reply.
Zekk walked quickly in the early morning light. In a few hours it would be hot enough to fry a Jawa on the sidewalk. Rounding a corner, a glint of metal caught Zekk’s eye. Stooping down to retrieve it, he noticed it was a coin. An old one too; metal wasn’t a common form of currency anymore. Dropping it into a pocket, Zekk hurried on.
A few streets later, Zekk arrived at the bay where the Lightening Rod was docked. He noted with satisfaction that no one had tried to break in during his absence. Once inside the old ship, he put the coin with the other stuff he had saved for her.
Some of it was junk. In fact, a lot of it was junk, but whenever Zekk had found something that caught his attention he would bring it back and add it to the pile. He figured it didn’t matter how much of it was worthless; she would probably never see any of it.
But he would see her again. Nothing could keep him from going back, maybe just once, to see what she had become. It was so long ago when he’d seen her last, two, three years? Time had slowly lost meaning for Zekk.
Sifting through the various baubles he collected for her, Zekk knew he’d have to give her at least some of the nicer ones. An ancient gold watch from a nameless world on the outer rim, pearls from Mon Calamari, sapphires and diamonds from Dathomir. Even an old hyperdrive he’d picked up on Ord Mantell. Maybe some money from his bounty hunting; Zekk made more than enough.
The bounty hunting. Sometimes Zekk wondered why he’d gotten into the business. Sure, the money was good. Better than good, most of the time. But being a mercenary wasn’t something Zekk relished.
Maybe he could leave the ranks of the bounty hunters to become a Jedi. But that had never been a good idea. It would bring up old memories, even if he stayed away from Yavin IV. There were plenty of Jedi running around who would have been more than happy to give Zekk a few lessons, but it would still be too painful.
The raids he’d gone on. Thinking back, Zekk could still hear the screaming children. The sound Vilas had made when his head had been severed from his body. All the blood afterwards. In zero gravity, it tends to float everywhere, making a cloud around Vilas’s body. The look on her face when Zekk held the lightsaber blade so close to her head.
No. Never again would he hold a saber, and never again would he raise a weapon against her.
Zekk sighed, and closed the chest where the gifts lay. Thinking about her depressed him, because he knew things would never be the same. Forcing the thoughts away, Zekk concentrated on the mission at hand.
He was working for himself this time around. The B’omarr monks who’d taken over Jabba the Hut’s old headquarters were his only link to the real bounty. According to local legend, Jabba had hidden a great deal of his fortune in some of the monk’s old catacombs. In the years right after Jabba’s death there’d been hundreds of people searching for the money. But when they met with no success, eventually the hordes had found other, profitable, ventures.
But the ones who’d given up hadn’t had Zekk’s power in the force. Not that he would dare to use it, but apparently the monks could sense it around him, and had given him access to their computer’s memory banks.
Regrettably, someone had found out about Zekk’s being privy to the monk’s histories and had spread the news around Mos Eisley. Whatever special treatment the monks were giving Zekk stopped faster than water evaporated in Tatooine’s deserts.
Yet such incidences mattered little to Zekk. He’d find the money before anyone else would. He’d already found an enclave in the caves of Beggar’s Canyon that hadn’t been searched out by one of the others. And if the money wasn’t there he’d find it someplace else. Afterwards, he would go to see her, perhaps for the last time.
Maybe that was why Zekk wasn’t in any hurry to find the money. He’d promised himself that after this he’d go back to her. He might even give her the cash before he left, a going away present he’d forgotten before.
She was still on Yavin IV, he assumed. Master Skywalker’s Jedi trained for years. Plenty of time to get the money. Even more time before he had to go see her.
No reason to hurry. She would smile when she saw him, her brandy brown eyes would light up the way they always did. Zekk would see Jaina soon enough, no need to rush things.
Especially when he didn’t know how happy she would be to see him again, after so many years.