Tatooine
"Stop letting your mind wander, Millisyn," Amir said helplessly as he watched Millisyn meditating.
"Hmph."
"You can't be impatient when teaching students, Amir. Look at me—I've never once rushed you," Obi-Wan said, sitting in the doorway with a drink in hand.
"Cover for me a bit. I've got some questions for Master Qui-Gon," Amir said, and immediately slipped away.
Obi-Wan watched Amir with a deeply suspicious expression, but he still stood up and walked over to Millisyn.
"Alright then, little apprentice. Want a cup of juice too?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Huh?! Yes!" Millisyn answered happily. Obi-Wan was so nice!
"See? You're still not focused."
Millisyn: …Right. Sure. I totally believe you, you crafty old man.
When Amir returned, he asked both of them about the Sith holocron. The answers he got were vague, but one point was certain: that thing was extremely dangerous. The Jedi Order had sealed away several of them before, treating them as the highest-level contraband.
Amir had come back to Tatooine partly to pick Obi-Wan up and bring him aboard. Kain had been entrusted with a major responsibility—protecting the future ceiling of the galaxy's combat potential: Luke Skywalker.
After asking Master Qui-Gon a few questions about things Amir didn't understand regarding Force spirits, Amir couldn't help asking more.
"Are dark side abilities and light side abilities completely opposed?" Ever since obtaining the Sith holocron, Amir had grown curious about dark side Force techniques.
"Of course not," Qui-Gon explained patiently. "A light-side user can also employ techniques associated with the dark side. It's just that many of those abilities require dark emotions as fuel—heh—so the moment you use them, you risk slipping toward the dark side."
Qui-Gon had been observing Obi-Wan's new apprentice. Extraordinary talent, powerful will, a mature temperament—there was no doubt Amir would become a formidable Jedi. The problem was that his foundation was far too thin. The time he'd truly spent learning the Force was simply too short.
And most importantly, Qui-Gon could sense a strong worry buried deep in Amir's heart. Worry was the easiest thing to turn into fear. And once someone became overly obsessed with power, it was very hard to resist the dark side's temptations.
Just like that child Qui-Gon had once met on this very planet decades ago—he had thought the boy would lead the Force toward balance, but he hadn't expected…
In the earliest years after Qui-Gon became a Force spirit, when he couldn't reach the outside world, he had watched young Anakin Skywalker grow step by step—display his gift, experience friendship and love; he had watched him suffer, holding his dead mother and choking back soundless sobs; watched him become trapped by visions of Padmé's death until he couldn't escape; watched him raise a blade against the Jedi Order and slaughter countless younglings…
Qui-Gon hated that he could only watch it happen. He wanted to stop Anakin, wanted to hold the boy and ease his grief, but he had no way to intervene.
He did not want to witness a tragedy like that ever again. He would keep watching Amir.
"Remember this, Amir," Qui-Gon said. "The destination the light side and the dark side reach is the same. The dark side is only faster. With your talent, you're not so lacking in time that you need that shortcut."
"I understand, Master. I won't be tempted by the dark side," Amir said with a smile. He could tell Qui-Gon was worried about him.
"I don't know what you're worried about deep down," Qui-Gon said, "but you must trust the guidance of the Force. The galaxy will return to balance in the end."
Amir nodded and etched Qui-Gon's words into his mind.
Not long after, Millisyn ran over. "Amir—our feast! You promised!"
Amir glanced toward the twin suns on the horizon. It was evening again.
"Let's go. After a big fight, you've got to eat something good."
"Yay!"
No. 32, who had been studying off to the side, stood up too.
"You can't even eat. Go soak in an oil bath," Amir said, giving No. 32 a pitiful look.
No. 32: …
Obi-Wan also finished meditating. Stroking his beard, he said, "I've been eating too well lately. I'm getting a bit… padded. Maybe I should add more training…"
Before long, they arrived at a roast shop in Mos Eisley.
"Ohh, it smells amazing!!" Millisyn sniffed happily.
They sat down, and they had just finished ordering when the entire shop's attention snapped to the person who entered through the door.
Amir took one look—hey, isn't that an old familiar face? He raised a hand and called out, "Mando! Over here!"
The Mandalorian fixed Amir with a hard stare and walked over step by step. It didn't feel like an old friend greeting—it felt like a hunter stalking prey.
What is this about? Amir frowned at the posture of his so-called buddy.
The whole roast shop fell silent. Even the staff stopped moving. No one wanted to provoke a fully armed Mandalorian—their reputation had been written in blood.
The Mandalorian reached Amir's table, pried a small round disc out from a gap in his armor, and tossed it onto the tabletop. It was a compact projector. Once activated, a hologram popped up above it.
Golden hair, a young face, eyes with a faintly lazy look…
"Amir, that's your picture!" Millisyn blurted first.
Below the portrait was a string of numbers:
The Mandalorian finally spoke, voice flat. "The Empire put a bounty on you."
Amir nearly sprayed his drink across the table. What? Who put fifty thousand credits on my head? I'm tempted to go claim it myself!
"So you came to collect me?" Amir asked, looking at the Mandalorian with confusion. This would be a very stupid time to start, little brother. Obi-Wan and No. 32 were right here, and Kain would be showing up too—any one of them alone would be hard enough for you.
The Mandalorian glanced at the people at Amir's table. An unkempt old man. A robot that looked… kind of slow. A Twi'lek girl…
Then he looked back at Amir.
"Fine," the Mandalorian said, choosing the practical option. "Get me a drink." He sat down.
Amir laughed. "I knew you weren't going to try to haul me in. Who posted the bounty?"
"Don't know who," the Mandalorian said, leaning back. "But the entire underworld is looking for you now. Fifty thousand credits is a strong lure. Oh—and the Empire also flagged your ship before, but then they pulled the notice. No idea why."
"Probably because I got caught…" Amir said dryly.
Then Amir thought about what he was going to do next. There was definitely a hard fight ahead—and sitting right in front of him was an obvious piece of cheap labor: tough, durable, and loyal enough.
"I've got a new job. You in?" Amir asked.
"As long as the credits are right," the Mandalorian replied. No surprise—he was the kind of hardcase who valued money more than his life. With Mandalore occupied by the Empire, clans hiding out in the wider galaxy could only keep their heads down and live carefully.
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🌌 Star Wars: Relics of the Past
📢 The Force Calls! 📢
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