"...are there no tears in the desert?" -- sequel to "ITSOTQ" (and "Cold&quo

Here it is, the long-awaited sequel...oh, wait. It's been all of what, three days? Well, I'm anxious to post it, so why wait any longer? This is the sequel to "In the Service of the Queen," my little Sabé and Obi-Wan story. It's also the sequel to my Ani&Ami story, "Cold." How does that work, you say? Well, it follows the plot-line I started in "Cold," which is very sad, by the way. But it really focuses on characters from ITSOTQ, in other words, Sabé and Obi-Wan. It is also sad, occuring after "Cold." sorry...I guess I like sad stuff, in a strange sort of way. You needn't really have read either story to understand this one, but it helps if you have, espeically ITSOTQ. Whew! enough introduction!

This is just a short first post; the epilogue actually. I know, epilogues are supposed to come last, but it does happen last chronologically. I'm just posting it first, because I'm weird, I guess. And now, finally, here we go:
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...are there no tears in the desert?

Epilogue: Night

Finished at last with his task, he wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned on the length of
metal which had served as a shovel. The sunlight glared mercilessly in his eyes, but that was not the cause of the tears that formed in them and refused to fall.

He looked one last time on the mound. It had taken nearly three hours to dig a hole large
enough, one that would not be uncovered by the desert winds. One that would remain undisturbed
for many, many years. The years stretching out endlessly before him.

But they would not be empty years, though lonely. His memories would keep him company.
Perhaps it would have been better without the memories. They may haunt him more than comfort
him.

Oh, he had plenty of memories to haunt him. But which would be harder to bear -- memories of the growing nightmare, set in motion by his own folly? Or memories of what used to be -- pleasant
times, joyous times he may never know again? --no, there was no doubt about it. He would never
know those pleasant times again. Yet he would not cast out the memories. He would keep them in
a secret corner of his heart, never to be released, never to be revealed. For her. Of her. Of them...
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Please comment and tell me if you want more. Thank you! (I know, it's horridly sad... )

<EDIT> Well, goshdern it!! there goes the weird title thing again please ignore...<EDIT>

 

::SOB::

Sabe died?????? I really hope I'm assuming wrong...

Okay, now that was just a cruel way to start a story. Completely cruel. But effective - - you've sure got my attention!

 

I didn't really understand that post, but I'm sure the story will be great. Can't wait for the next post.

 

Well, that was very nasty of me, starting off on that sad note, but I think reading the epilogue first will make it easier to read the rest. We'll see, I guess. Anyway, I think I shall post just a little more, to really get the story started...

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Chapter 1: Of Liars and Farmers

The freighter came out of lightspeed with a jolt, a far cry from the comfort of space travel she was accustomed to. Well, for ten credits she couldn't expect luxury. As long as it got her where she needed to go.

She peered out the window at the greyish-white planet they were orbiting, preparing to land.
Two more planets, and then they'd finally reach her destination. By then the other passengers would all be gone, traveling to more civilized, populated areas. She would be sharing her place with a few crates of supplies and the pilots. But she had known her share of loneliness in the last few months.

She did not leave the ship during the two hours it was docked on that planet. There was nothing that interested her now except accomplishing what she had set out to do. And to do that she would have to wait.

Two more days, a green-blue planet that was familiar and yet foreign, that made her heart
ache; and a reddish rocky orb that reminded her of fire. Now everyone had left; she was all alone
with a pile of boxes. She drifted off to sleep as they went into hyperspace. Her mind filled with
dreams that seemed to whisper secrets and then floated away out of reach. She was jolted awake
by a pilot, who shook her shoulder roughly.

"You're getting off here, aren't you, lady?" His face was hardly friendly, but she thanked him for waking her up and slowly got to her feet. They would be landing on the planet in a few seconds,
and she watched grimly at the window as the sandy surface grew ever larger and closer.

"That's it." Her lips formed the words with something almost like a smile emerging.
"Tatooine." The smile quickly faded and she sighed, lightly, as though all her tears were spent.
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The story should make more sense as it progresses...I promise to post often. I suppose that would be expected, judging from current trends. Two posts, one right after the other!

 

What a sad beginning! But some of the best stories I've read use a sad beginning to kick things off... look forward to more! It looks so far like it won't be the 'typical' S/O scenario, which in itself is good...

 

A depressing start... I'm definetly going to like this.

 

"Cold" meets "ITSOTQ" equals very, very sad S/O!

I like how you started with the epilogue. An unconventional beginning to what promises to be an unconventional story. I can't wait for more.

 

Interesting...hey, I like sad, too! BTW, where can I find "Cold" ? I like your stuff.

 

Hey ya, there's another post. I understood that one too!! Looks like it's going to be a good story. Post more soon, please.

 

Here is the link to "Cold," if you haven't read it and would like to:
http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=217676&page=3

Thanks, everybody, for your comments! I really hope you like the rest, since you have such <gulp> high expectations. Now, of course, you have a hint at how sad it will be, so don't say I didn't warn you! Well, here's some more:
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They arrived at a spaceport, landing heavily on the ground and nearly knocking her off her feet. Regaining her balance, she smoothed her clothes out of habit and automatically checked for the
weapon at her side. She had nothing else to take with her.

Following a pilot down the ramp of the ship as he unloaded cargo, she padded along the sand-packed ground and made her way to the center of the spaceport. There, she hoped, she would be able to get directions and find her way to her destination.

There seemed to be little or no organization at the port. There was nowhere to go for information, no helpful officers or passers-by. A general mood of distrust seemed to pervade the city; she was eyed with suspicion and then ignored. Finally she managed to catch the attention of a woman humanoid; her expression was kindly enough in comparison to the others.

"Pardon me, but you wouldn't happen to know where I could find a farmer by the name of Lars?"

The woman's expression changed to annoyance.
"You might try the farms. That's usually where you'll find them."

Trying to be patient, she responded, "Then where might I find the farms?"

The woman waved her arm, dismissing her. "I don't bother with those rustic sorts; I prefer city life."

She stared at the woman as she walked on. "Well, that was helpful," she muttered sarcastically. But at least she had learned one thing: the people around here weren't very fond of farming.

"It seems you are in need of assistance." She whirled about to see a seedy-looking male of an unfamiliar race, leaning nonchalantly against a support beam, eying her with amusement.

"And why do you care?" she replied, trying to conceal her surprise and adopt the mistrust that
everyone else displayed.

"I like to help people out," he replied calmly. He added, "And you look like you could give a nice reward for anyone willing to lend assistance."

"You're mistaken," she snapped back, deciding that nothing was wrong with honesty in this case.
"I'm broke. There's nothing I can give you."

He shrugged. "That point I could argue."

She suddenly realized his possible meaning and shuddered. Composing herself once more, however, she glared at him -- she could look threatening if she wanted to. "Then take this as a warning: you'll get more than you bargained for if you mess with me."

"I believe you," he said. "Now what is it you want?" At her angry glare he held up his hands
defensively. "Don't get uptight! I'm really quite harmless, you know," he told her, grinning.

She eyed him for a moment, then decided to tell him -- part of it. But she did not, by any means, lower her guard. "I'm looking for a man by the name of Owen Lars. A farmer, from
somewhere around these parts. Do you have any idea where he might live?"

His expression was thoughtful, if she was interpreting it correctly. "Name doesn't ring a bell," he mused. "But I'm sure I can find out. You wait here," he told her. "And trust me! You're in safe hands."

As safe as in the hands of the Emperor, more likely, she thought, but she remained where she was. It was worth a try anyway, and he probably wouldn't attempt anything illegal in broad daylight.
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Well, we'll see just what this guy is going to do in the next exciting post....heehee.

 

Page five?
Up! and I promise I will post today.

 

I like this already! I'll be anxiously awaiting your next post.

 

Thank you for reading, val solo.

Is anyone else reading? Well, maybe if I post they will read...
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After a quarter hour of waiting, the alien returned, breathless but triumphant. "Owen Lars was just in the city last week, ordering new vaporizers," he announced. "He lives a short speeder ride from here; I can program the coordinates into your speeder right now if you want."
She was surprised at how courteous he was; mainly it just made her more suspicious. But she all she said was, "I don't own a speeder.
And I have no money to buy one."

"No problem," he responded. "Those clothes you're wearing? You could trade them in for a shipload of credits. You don't find materials like that much on this planet."

She glared at him. "And what, may I ask, could I wear after selling my clothes?" Without waiting for an answer, which she did not want to hear, she went on. "And how do I know you'd give me the right coordinates? You may double-cross me and send me into a dune sea, or who knows what."

He assumed an innocent expression which somehow did not suit him. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Well, no, not in the last ten minutes I've known you." Her glare did not falter.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself! You'll just have to find another way there." He started to walk
off.

She knew he expected her to stop him, and it was the last thing she wanted to do, but she swallowed her pride. She didn't have much time. For the sake of others, not for herself --

"Wait," she called after him. He turned around, a smile twisting on his face. "Listen, I don't
trust you any farther than I could throw a bantha, but it looks like you're my only choice."

"That's better," he grinned. "Now, about your clothes..."
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Her clothes?! What a sneaky guy this alien is. I just don't trust him at all!

More please!

 

An hour later she was seated in a landspeeder, one of the clunkiest she had ever seen, but just barely still functional. Her travel gown had been bartered and sold, and replaced by a cloak of
rough material that chafed her skin, found in a nearby trash bin. The alien male was finishing
punching the coordinates into the speeder and looked up with a smile. "There you are!" he smiled, a motion that made her skin crawl. "All ready, I see. I trust you know how to control one of these?" She thought she could see a sneer curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes." No time for witty comebacks. "Now I'd like to be going, if you don't mind." She climbed into the speeder and looked up at him with a forced look of gratitude. "I thank you for your service; you have been quite helpful."

He grinned again, a most unpleasant sight. "Oh, don't thank me. You'll repay me soon enough."

His words sent chills down her spine. Looking at him uneasily, she tried to discern what he meant. But now he was smiling pleasantly again.
"Have a lovely trip. I hope you manage not to run
into any Sandpeople." With that, he strolled away from the speeder. She frowned.

Then she shook her head and started up the speeder. No use wasting time, pondering his words. Her time was short enough.

After two hours of traveling ? short speeder ride, indeed! ? she arrived at the farm. If "farm"
was what she should call it. It was certainly not like the lush, green fields of grain and
vegetables she had known from her childhood. Farming water required very different techniques than those she was familiar with. It looked like a horribly tedious process, long and often ineffective. They must barely scratch out a living.

But they are good people, she reminded herself. That was what *he* had told her.

She parked the speeder near what seemed to be the main entrance of their dwelling and climbed to the ground. Should she knock? she wondered. Or was there some sort of doorbell?

She didn't have to decide. The door opened itself as she walked towards it. She stepped inside, disregarding manners. If she was going to be effective she needed to have a powerful entrance.
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So did everyone else get scared away by the sad beginning? It's not sad all the way through, really it isn't! There's happy parts too; and they're coming up eventually!

 

You didn't scare me away! I love it. It's very intriguing. Please post more ASAP. And by the way, I absolutely loved "In the Service of the Queen."

 

Thanks Queenie!

*blush* I feel so shameful upping my own story, but it seems to fall to page four so quickly. I will post soon, I promise, and hopefully more people will read it...

 

Hopefully more people will read now that the story is getting more interesting -- I hope. This begins to explain a lot more, anyway...

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Chapter 2: A Certain Point of View

It was a small entranceway, leading to a front room with two sagging chairs; older, it seemed, than the dwelling itself. Everything seemed to have a worn-out look, as though they aged twice as
fast in the desert. The room was empty, but moments after entering she heard footsteps coming
closer.

A figure emerged in the hallway and stopped upon seeing her. It was a woman, close in age to her and clad in simple clothing, far simpler than she was used to seeing. Then she remembered her
own ragged cloak.

?Hello?? the woman greeted her, slightly confused but not angry. ?Is there something you need??

?Yes,? she said, barely keeping back the urgency in her voice. She paused. ?Is your husband
here??

?My husband?? The woman looked even more baffled.
?Yes, he's here.?

?Send for him.? It was a command, yet for some reason the woman seemed willing to follow it.

Then the woman hesitated. ?May I ask who you are??

?A messenger.? Her voice almost broke. ?From the queen.?

The woman's eyes widened. Without another word she turned around and disappeared down the hallway. She could hear the woman's words, muffled but clear enough: ?Owen! There's someone
here to see us.? A deep voice answered, coming closer. She stood nervously at the doorway,
dreading what was coming next.

The woman re-entered the front hall with her husband, a stocky man with several month's
growth of hair on his face and multitude of wrinkles far past his years. The desert had aged him as well.

He looked at her with something similar to the suspicion and distrust she had faced in the
spaceport. ?You're from the Queen, you say??

His tone clearly said ?I don't believe you.?

She straightened and pulled together what little dignity she had remaining. ?I am Sabé of Naboo, handmaiden to Queen Amidala. I have traveled far, to bring you an important message.? Her hard gaze came upon the man and seemed to bore right through him. ?This is no light matter. I warn you not to underestimate these circumstances. This could have affect the fate of many, yet unborn.?

She paused significantly before saying, ?It's about the boy.?

The woman clutched her husband's arm and gave him an intense look. Reluctantly, he nodded. ?In that case,? he said gruffly, ?we should probably hear what you have to say.? He motioned towards the front room. ?Would you like to sit down??

?Thank you,? Sabé said, trying to conceal her relief. She followed the couple into the room and seated herself across from them, automatically
assuming a regal pose. Old habits were not easily forgotten.
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And next time we'll find out what she has to say...is anyone interested?

 

You bet your bippy, I am! What's she gonna say to Owen and Beru? Is it tied in with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Amidala (I bet it is)? More, more! Bravo!

 

I'm going to shamelessly up this story once more before I go to bed, in the hopes it will not fall to page 5 before I wake up tomorrow. I will post tomorrow.

 

Oh, I'm sorry, Cinde! Haven't been here in a while but I'm reading now!

A message? Hmmmm... Still a bit unsure of how much has happened prior to Sabe's little pilgrimage, but I'm sure all will be explained in due time. We shall see...

 

Yes, Angel of Iego, all will be explained eventually. And thanks for reading!
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?My name is Beru Lars,? the woman said, giving Sabé a reluctant but warm smile. ?And you seem to know my husband Owen.?

?Only from what I've heard others say,? Sabé replied. ?But let me assure you that if Obi-Wan
Kenobi felt you could be entrusted with the child, I have every confidence that you are worthy and capable of it.?

Owen let out a snort. ?Yes, you all have great confidence in that crazy Jedi, I'm sure.?

Sabé looked at him with surprise. Never had she heard someone speak of a Jedi in such a tone.

?Owen,? Beru said gently, ?that's enough.? She turned to Sabé. ?I'm sure you've had a very
hard journey. Do you need anything? Water?Food? Rest??

Sabé shook her head. ?Thank you, no. I'll be all right.? She could not keep her face from
drooping, however.

?Things have gotten worse, haven't they?? Beru was a very perceptive woman. ?It doesn't
make much difference to us here on the Outer Rim...?

Owen snorted again. ?It's *always* been worse here on the Outer Rim.?

?But things are worse, are they not?? Beru looked shrewdly at Sabé's expression.

She nodded. "Yes. Things are much worse." It took her a few moments before she could go on.
"The queen is dead."

Beru could not keep from gasping. Owen's expression, if possible, became even grimmer.

From another room down the hallway, the sounds of a baby crying began to float through the house. Beru jumped up and left the room.

Sabé and Owen stayed seated, neither one saying a word. Sabé found herself studying Owen's face as he looked idly past her, trying to see something more of him. Was this the man Obi-Wan had chosen to raise the boy? Why? Everything about him seemed to be negative -- his attitude towards Obi-Wan, his manner of speaking, his bitter, harsh demeanor. Only Beru seemed to have any success in taming in. Yes, taming him; he gave Sabé the impression of a beast from some distant planet.

This *was* a distant planet.

Beru returned after a few moments with a small boy in her arms, no more than ten or eleven
months old. Sabé watched her as she sat down again, carefully moving the boy from one arm to the other, watching his face with gentle delight. Instantly Sabé recalled the face of the boy's real mother, bent over his sister with the same expression. Tears sprang to her eyes, which had long been dry as though she could no longer cry. It was a relief.

At last Beru looked up and broke the silence.
"Well, here's the boy," she said, a smile almost
appearing on her face. "What's the message?"

Sabé swallowed, trying to separate her emotions from her memories. "It's about the queen's last words. Her last request."

The couple leaned forward with interest. Sabé, however, stopped for a moment, wondering how to phrase it...

//A frenzied, fevered face, gazing at her in an agony of pain... "Don't let him know...the
nightmare...he's just a baby...wait...older...
when he's older...not now..."//

Sabé shook her head and spoke at last. "The queen wished that the truth of her son's -- parentage -- be kept from him, for a little
while. Until he was old enough to understand, to be able to bear it. It would be too much for a little boy to bear."

Neither Beru nor Owen said anything at first. Their gaze turned to the boy. Silently Owen offered to hold the baby, and Beru placed him in his arms. Slowly that same expression came onto Owen's face. It was a miraculous transformation. At that instant Sabé knew the boy was in the right hands. Here was a man who would be a father, a loving father, hard, but unselfish and caring.

Better than the real father.
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Well, that was an exceptionally sad post, but other than that, what do you think? How are my characterizations of Owen and Beru? and what about the queen's request?
More coming soon!

 

Yes, I see them as true to character. As for Amidala's last request...that too is appropriate. How painful for Sabe to have to bear that news... *sniff*

 

I really like how you're progressing with this story...Sabe's message was so fitting. =(

Is she, by any chance, going to take a small side trip into the house of a certain crazy old hermit? (Hey, he's not *that* old yet...)

And I've been on vacation, therefore neglecting every story I read. Sorry! ::gets whapped::

 

Very interesting! Keep writing please!