Legacy ~*~ ANNOUNCEMENT ~*~ COMPLETED --TAGGED

I don't know if anyone's ever written a story that's pre-Old Republic, but I hope people find this one interesting.
*****

The cheerful boy ran pell mell through the tall grasses, yelling at the top of his lungs with the other boys. He grinned at the pale lavender sky over his head, and the emerald-green grasses surrounding him. They grew so tall, he could barely see over them. He stopped and examined a particularly thick stalk. A red flower was just begging to blossom near its base, and he smiled in anticipation of the sweet nectars within. The bright color was muted by a thin, translucent membrane. He glanced around to make sure none of the other boys were there, and gently plucked the flower, making sure the membrane remained intact. Then he expertly ripped a hole in the top with his teeth, and sucked out the sweet juice inside.

The boy took out his glowtool, the humming sound sending a special pleasure through him. Like the other boys, he was barely old enough to fashion a glowtool for himself, and his was the finest of all. He slashed through the base of the stalk and cut it up into pieces the size of his hands, which were much too big for the rest of his body. He laid them carefully in his knapsack, then packed the glowtool away and ran off, yelling again.

"Hey, Nastom son of Narto!" another boy shouted his name. "What?s in your sack?"

Nastom flashed a white grin at his rival. "None of your flarg-eating business, Hartyr son of Hagondosh!"

Hartyr scowled. "You found a nisi flower, didn?t you?"

"So what if I did?" Nastom smirked. "I found a mature nisi stalk, too. My mother will have extra food tonight."

Hartyr tossed his long blond hair. "You should have saved the nisi flower for her, not just the stalk," he accused.

"Mother doesn?t like nisi flowers," Nastom replied. "Besides, they aren?t good for the baby."

"Well, my father is hunting this afternoon, so my entire family will have flargen to eat tonight."

Nastom stepped back, stung. Their banter had been friendly enough until now. "How dare you?" he said softly.

Hartyr hastily apologized. "I?m sorry, Nastom. I forgot." They both he hadn?t, but it was the polite thing to say.

Nastom?s father had lost his right hand when his first glowtool, the one he had fashioned when he was merely thirteen, exploded at its first use. He had been unable to hunt ever since, and the entire town knew it. Nastom?s family often went hungry these days, because his mother was unable to gather food with the other women. They occasionally brought their leftovers, but each family had to fend for themselves.

Nastom turned shortly and raced back toward the village. The nisi stalks spoiled quickly in the heat. His mother would bake it as soon as he returned home, and perhaps there would be enough for him to taste it, too.

The grasses shortened dramatically as he approached the village. The small huts rose out of the prairie like small flargen. Nastom looked forward to the day when he could join the hunters. Flargen were very large, and although they were usually friendly, fought mightily when cornered. It took many hunters to get close enough to stab one with his glowtool.

A girl stopped him at the outskirts of the village. "Nastom, your father needs you."

"Thanks, Seeta." Nastom bowed. Even though she was only twelve, women deserved the proper respect. "Where is he?"

"With you mother."

Nastom sucked in his breath, his spine tingling. "Is it . . . ?"

She nodded, smiling at his excitement. "Yes. Several women are with your mother to help with the delivery, don?t worry."

Nastom was flooded with joy. His parents had wanted another child for years, but after several miscarriages, had given up the idea. When his mother had gotten pregnant, they hadn?t dared to hope the child would live. Nastom hugged Seeta impulsively. "Thanks! Thank you very much!" He turned to run to his cottage, then remembered at the last minute to bow again.

His father stood outside the door,

 

Great so far! I don't think I've ever read a story quite like this...

Could the tingling sensation be the Force? ? (I'm just thinking out loud here... )

Good start, I'm looking forward to reading more!

 

I'll just post more now, even though only one person seems to have read this (hint: when you read this, please reply!). I've already written the first five or six scenes, so I'll get them up pretty fast. Then if no one likes this, maybe I'll stop. Or then again, I'm having so much fun with it, that maybe I won't.
*****

Nastom woke to hear his sister crying again. The three year old had an ear infection of some kind, and cried all night and into the morning. He sighed and got up. He wouldn?t be able to get back to sleep now, anyway.

"I?m coming, Nastia," he grumbled. He grabbed a bowl and filled it with nisi flower honey, then hurried over to the crib.

Nastia looked up at him, and he could feel the pain she was in. He smiled sympathetically and lifted her into his arms. She quieted, and he dipped a finger in the honey and let her suck it off. It helped her ears to suck on something.

"Mother and father will be back in a few days," he assured her. "Don?t worry."

"I hurt," she said, her pale blue eyes looking up at his. She touched her ear with one small hand. "My ear is hurting."

"I know Nastia," he said, giving her more honey and walking outside. The early morning sky was a deep purple color, with a few stars still showing. He pointed up at the brightest. "What is that star called, Nastia?"

She stared, then buried her head shyly in his shoulder. "I dunno," came her muffled voice.

"Father says it?s called Danto," Nastom told her.

She looked up at it, the pain forgotten. "Danto?"

"Yes." Nastom switched her to his other shoulder and stared up at the brightening sky. Soon all the stars faded, and the sun heaved itself over the horizon, lighting up the sky to a pale lilac color. Nastia was soon asleep against his shoulder.

Other villagers emerged from their cottages. "Fine morning, Nastom son of Narto," one called.

"Yes, sir, it is," Nastom agreed.

"Is your sister feeling any better today?" a woman asked him, clucking in sympathy.

Nastom bowed. "She is not. But the honey is helping soothe her throat and clear her ears."

The woman nodded wisely. "That?s what I do with my young ones."

Nastom?s friend Hartyr came up to him. "When are your parents returning, Nastom?"

Nastom shrugged. "I don?t know. It depends on how far they have to travel to find the trees." Half the adults in the village were gone to find more wood to repair their houses. They had been gone for a week now, and Nastom assumed they would be back before another week passed. He looked curiously at his friend. "Have the hunters returned yet?"

"No," Hartyr replied. "But don?t worry, my father wishes to bring you some meat, as you are unable to hunt with your sister sick."

Nastom nodded. "Thank you."

A strange sound cut off their conversation. It sounded like a muffled roar, and grew louder with each passing moment. Nastia began to wail, and Nastom felt as if a dark cloud had settled over the village. "What is that?" he asked, chilled.

Hartyr looked as confused as he felt. "I don?t know. A stampede, perhaps?"

Nastom hadn?t thought of that. "If it?s a stampede, we need to evacuate the village."

"Yeah, I think you?re right," Hartyr said slowly. They looked at each other. The last stampede was seven years ago, and the entire village had been demolished, and thirteen people were killed.

"Go spread the word," Nastom said harshly. He hurried back into the hut. He couldn?t leave Nastia alone when he went to warn the town. He cast about for her sling. It was a long, wide piece of fabric that tied over his shoulders so he could carry the toddler on his back. He quickly strapped her in and ran out.

"The flargen are stampeding," he shouted. "Everyone out!"

The village was already in an uproar. With half the adults gone to find lumber, and all the other men hunting, the residents were mostly inexperienced children or older women who needed help. Nastom scanned the crowd for Seeta, finally spotting her raven black hair.

 

Umm, is no one reading this? I thought people would be intrigued. Oh well, here's the next scene. Things begin to get exciting as we start recognizing places (if not characters).
*****


Nastia wasn?t crying anymore. Even Nastom felt empty, drained of emotions. The pain had come every few minutes at first, then every half hour, now even longer, until he lost track of the flowing time.

The pain would explode around him, leaving his ears ringing, and Nastia would scream. Nastom gritted his teeth and held Nastia for dear life. Then came the silence, that was even worse. The plains around him echoed in keening loneliness, and he was afraid for the first time in his life. Afraid of starving, dying of thirst, being found. And after each bout of agony, the silence was even deeper.

Now there had been no pain for over an hour, and the sun was just easing itself over the horizon and out of view. Nastom wished it would stay; anything to keep the endless, echoing stillness away. Nastom even wished for the pain now. Pain meant life, and he knew somehow, buried in a crevice in his heart, that there was no more life here. There would be no more pain, and the silence would last forever.

The now familiar muffled roar blasted across the prairie, coming toward him. He pulled Nastia close. "Keep absolutely still," he ordered harshly. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"What is it, Nastom?"

"Another machine," he told her grimly. Another agent of destruction.

The dry air was cooling off now that the sun was down, and the sky lay heavily across the heavens in deep purple folds, punctured here and there by stars. Nastom dared to stand and look up at the machine. It came ever closer, a beam of bright light shining downward from it and lighting the grasses an eerie green.

Something tugged at him, a desire to cry out for help. He was tired of waiting, tired of sitting here in the damp trying to stay hidden. As the searchlight bore down on him, he raised his arms defiantly.

"Come and get me then!" he screamed at it. The thing slowed and hovered above him. His voice was the only sound beside the machine?s own noise. "I?m not afraid of you!"

Nastia stood up, clinging to his leg in fear. "It will eat us!" she was crying. "It will eat us, eat us!"

Nastom watched the machine settle on the grasses with a dull thud. He braced himself for the bursts of light to sear through his flesh and end it all, but nothing happened. Part of the machine detached itself and lowered, forming a ramp.

Nastom stared at it. Nastia tugged his trouser leg. "I?m scared," she whispered insistently. "Scared."

"I?m not," Nastom said, surprising himself. He picked his sister up and headed for the ramp. A man appeared at the top. His features were surprised.

"Come on, kids," he called with a thick, fast accent. He glanced around furtively. "Hurry, before someone sees."

Nastom, confused by his lack of fear, ran up the ramp. Inside the machine was a strange room. The walls were metal, except for three big windows cut in it. A dull light shone and reflected off the empty space. There must be a kind of clear metal there, Nastom thought. He put Nastia down, but she reached up toward him, her eyes pleading, and he picked her up again.

The ramp closed, and the man slid into a chair by the windows. In front of him was a panel covered with blinking spots of light like stars. Nastom watched, fascinated, as the man?s fingers flew over the panel, and the machine lifted into the air.

They moved impossibly fast, up higher and higher. "I?m lucky I found you," the man was saying. "We?re under orders to kill any natives to spare them what?s coming."

"What is coming?" Nastom asked, fear settling in the pit of his stomach.

"We?re carrying out the Danto Sector Mining Ordinance, son," the man said, his eyes pitying.

"What?s that?" Nastom asked uneasily.

"Since your planet isn?t contributing to the Danto Sector, it will be demolished."

"What?!"

The man?s

 

Oh, PLEASE don't stop!!!!

This is really good! I wonder if the word "Jedi" will come from "Jedos"...

And what Nastom is feeling, I bet it's the Force... ?

Well, I know I'M looking forward to reading more!!!

 

Thanks, Laura! *sags against the hard, wooden chair in relief*
I'll post more tomorrow, maybe tonight.

 

Next segment
*****

"Good luck, kid," Dev called.

"And you," Nastom told him. He hesitated a moment, then blurted out, "Thank you. For everything."

"No problem." Dev waved, and the ramp lifted back up. Nastom watched from a safe distance as the ship took off and disappeared into the distance.

"Pretty," cooed Nastia.

He smiled over his shoulder at his sister, where she sat strapped against his back. "You are going to grow up in this world, Nastia. You might as well appreciate the beauty of it. Maybe I will too, someday."

"Hey, watch out!" Nastom jumped back as a blur of sound and motion swept past him. Then he took a deep breath and stepped forward into the bustling spaceport.

Dev had warned him about Dantooine. Like all major commercial centers, it was filled with both honest businessmen and ruffians. Dev had given him a sideways glance, and added that sometimes in Dantooine, one couldn?t tell the difference. Nastom didn't know what he meant.

Suddenly, a huge form was blocking his path. He looked up to see the scowling face of a middle-aged woman. She put her hands on her large hips and glared at him. "What are you doing here? This is private property!"

"I didn't know," he said, startled. Private property? "Whose property?"

She laughed, a big sound. "Well, mine! Why else would I care? Unless," she scrutinized him carefully, "you're part of the DSI?"

Now he was thoroughly baffled. "DSI? What's that?"

She rocked back on her heels. "The Danto Sector Intelligence. Kos says they're bad."

"I don't even know what it is," he said honestly. "We're new here."

" 'We'?" She spotted Nastia. "Oh! What's a tyke like you doing with such a little creature?" Before Nastom could stop her, she lunged for him and untied Nastia's sling.

"That's my sister!" he protested angrily. "Leave her alone!"

"Your sister? Well, then you'd better come along too."

She whirled and strode into the nearest doorway. Nastom hurriedly followed her. The inside of the building was dingy and run-down. Glowpanels were strung haphazardly across the ceiling, and didn't penetrate into the corners. Nastom resolutely looked straight ahead and found himself in a small room.

The woman pulled open a door, and removed a bottle. "Milk!" Nastia cried, delighted. The woman gave Nastom another suspicious look, then hunkered down on a stool and gave Nastia the bottle. The little girl eagerly unscrewed the airtight seal and guzzled the cool beverage.

"So, how long has it been since you last fed her?" the woman finally asked.

"Longer than since I last ate," Nastom said. "The pilot who brought us here shared his rations with her."

She looked up. "And what about you?"

Nastom had been ignoring the insistent rumblings in his belly. "About three days, I think," he admitted. To his surprise, the woman got up again and opened the small door. Within must be some sort of cooling device.

"Eat this," she said gruffly, thrusting a dish at him.

"Thank you," he stammered automatically.

"Sure." Nastom dug into the food, not caring that it was a fading orange color and had little green flecks in it.

"Icky!" Nastia giggled happily. "Nastom's making a mess!"

Nastom finished and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The woman watched him, and for once he couldn't interpret her expression. "Good?" she asked, as if afraid of the answer.

"I don't know, but it sure tasted good to me."

"Your welcome."

Nastom interpreted that as a truce, and moved to sit on the other stool. A flicker of movement in the doorway caught his eye, but was instantly gone.

"Who else is here?"

The woman looked startled. "What . . . ?"

Nastom pointed. "There was someone out there."

"Oh. My daughter, Kos."

On cue, a girl came in. "When's supper, Mo--" She broke off. "Oh!"

Nastom studied her. She looked about Seeta's age, a year or two younger than he, but she didn't have Seeta's incandescent beauty. This girl had very pale hai

 

I'm reading and I'm intrigued. So they're the first Jedi, huh? I'll be interested to see how they get along on this technologically advanced world, especially if they'll suffer from culture shock, and how the Jedi Order will come about, and the Old Republic. Keep writing!

 

Up!
Again, I'm embarrassed to up my own story. But it's been done before and will be done again.
I'll post some more soon.

 

Well, I don't read many pre JA fics, but this one seems real cool. I'll definantly be reading.

 

Thanks!

 

So cool! "We're Jedi"

The first Jedi!

I'm really enjoying this, and I'm glad to know that you're not going to stop!

Looking forward to more!

 

This is a great story!!! It's amazing!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!

I hope to read more soon..

DOn't hestitate to PM me when you get a new post up, so I don't miss it!

Later
Rennati

 

Very Cool. Beginnings are always intriguing. What do the Jedi look like? Are they humans, or aliens, or what?
I'm really liking this. Keep it up.

 

Yea! Feedback! I'll post some more!
*****

Nastom woke late the next morning. His head swam and a persistent drumming noise assaulted his ears. "Masa?" he called out. There was no reply.

He sat up with a jolt. Masa was dead, along with his father and the village and the entire planet. Nastom felt strangely drained of emotion. His heart refused to register that everything he had ever known was gone forever.

Except for Nastia. He looked down next to him where she had slept, but she was gone. He quickly climbed out of bed and hurried down the stairs, which protested loudly.

Nastom found Nastia in the kitchen, where they had been last night. She sat on a stool, with Maria watching her. The woman did not notice Nastom's arrival. "Good morning," he said.

Maria turned slowly to look at him, and he was shocked by the lost expression on her face. "Where's Kos?" she asked.

"I don't know," Nastom replied, startled. "Is she missing?"

Maria shook her head slowly. "No. Not missing." She paused, then smiled. "Oh! She is at work. I forgot." She eased off the stool and went over to a cupboard. It was empty, and she stared at it in confusion.

Nastom was confused too. What was wrong with her? She was so kind last night, but now she seemed only half there, like a very old person.

"Nastom!" Nastia gave him a dazzling smile and held her arms up imperiously. Nastom laughed and scooped her up.

"How's Nastia this morning?" he asked, kissing her forehead.

"Yummy food," Nastia replied. An empty plate sat on the tottering table.

"Food!" Maria exclaimed suddenly. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I am," Nastom replied. She moved slowly to a cupboard and pulled out a bowl of dry flakes. "Thank you." He hesitantly bit one. It was sweet and bitter at the same time. He finished the bowl without relish, but without loathing.

Maria sank down onto her stool and stared at Nastia again, as if in a trance. Nastom felt vaguely uneasy.

A heavy knock sounded at the door. Maria made no move to answer it, so Nastom put his sister down and hurried out into the cramped hallway.

A man in a blotchy brown uniform stood in the dust in front of the door. "We have come to deliver tests," the man said mechanically.

"What tests?"

The man consulted a boxy machine, then tucked it under his arm. "This household requires yearly tests. You are required to let me enter."

Nastom could think of no reply to that, and stepped aside. The man sauntered past him, then addressed him again. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" The man slapped him, and Nastom jumped back. "What was that for?"

"Don't be impertinant, boy," the man sneered. "I am to conduct an intelligence test on the correct member of this household. Is that you?"

Since he had never laid eyes on the place before yesterday, Nastom answered, "No."

"Fine." The officer turned abruptly and went into the kitchen. Moments later, Nastia came out, looking puzzled.

"He said go," she told Nastom.

"Then let's go upstairs." Nastom took her hand and led her back up to the bedroom.

Nearly an hour later, the officer came up to them. "Give this to whoever is in charge here," he said, thrusting a letter in Nastom's face.

Nastom hesitantly took the letter. "That would be Maria."

The officer laughed. 'That woman down there? She can't read, boy."

"So I guess her daughter is in charge."

"Well, give this to someone, kid. I can't waste my time." The man left.

When Kos returned that night, Nastom told her about the day's events and gave her the note. She scanned it, and her face paled. "What happened?" Nastom asked, sensing her distress.

"It says I'm not working my full quota, and my mother is no longer eligible for medicine," she said in a dazed voice. "They must have increased my quota without telling me!" She screamed, her fists clenched at her sides, then spun away, tearing up the note as she went.

Nastom realized that Maria was under medication for her mental condition.

 

Whoa...... Good post!

So, what's next for the first Jedi???

can't wait to see!

later
Rennati

 

Great post!

I wonder what's going to happen next... ?

Looking forward to the next post!

 

Thanks, guys! *chokes up with emotion*

 

oooo, good good, getting interesting

 

AACK! Darth Family has returned from his four day camping trip and is competing for the family computer (the only one with internet access) again! I can still write on my computer, but only post on this one, so I may have to post longer scenes, less frequently.
*****

Kos paused at the top of the rickety staircase, listening for voices below. There were none. She tugged at her drab, brown work clothes and hurried down. Her mother would prepare a quick breakfast for her and she would leave before the boy and his sister came down.

She silently opened the kitchen door, and found herself face to face with Nastom.

His eyes were earnest and apologetic. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "Did I wake you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What're you doing up so early?" she demanded.

He blinked. "Nastia is feeling ill, so I sat up with her. I just came down to get a drink." He held up a metal cup, some water sloshing over the sides.

Kos stalked past him. Why did these strangers have to come disrupt her life? She almost had enough Danto credits saved to get away from here, and now their guests were eating up her overtime pay.

"What's wrong?" he asked from behind her.

"Nothing," she threw over her shoulder. She pulled open the cooling unit and removed a covered cup of sweet-beans.

"Yes there is." He sounded puzzled.

She turned slowly to face him again. "You can't read my mind, so stop trying."

He looked genuinely startled. "I'm sorry," he said automatically. "I didn't mean--"

"Shut up," she told him, disgustedly. What did he know about this kind of life?

She tore the cover off her breakfast and popped the small beans into her mouth. They were rich in proteins and sugars, and would keep her energized during the long workday. She heard him pull out a stool and sit down, but didn't look up. When she finished, she tossed the cup on the table and left.

"Where do you work?" he asked suddenly.

Surprised she turned around. "What do you mean?"

"I know you work in the factory, but what does it do? What's it like?" He waited patiently as she decided whether to answer him or not. She chose to shock him.

"They're horrible conditions," she told him. "Dust and soot everywhere. The machines are noisy and frighten the children."

"There are children there?" Nastom interrupted.

"Yes," replied Kos haughtily. "I started when I was six." The horror on his face was gratifying. "So you see, I can take care of myself. I don't need you or my mother."

She left, hearing Nastom's quiet voice behind her as the door swung shut. "I'm sorry."

For some reason that made her furious all over again. Why was he sorry? It was that way for everyone! As she left the cramped house and hurried toward the factory, a memory surfaced in her mind. Herself as a child barely old enough to work in the factory. She had burned her hand that day, but hid her tears from her mother. They had no other way of earning money; it was her job to support them. So she hadn't told her mother. As she lay in bed, her hand ached, sending waved of pain up her arm. She had cried herself to sleep that night, and many other nights afterward, wondering where her childhood had gone.

Kos angrily dismissed the memory. She was no longer a child. She hadn't been one for eight years, since she was six and went to work in the factory. She ducked her head against the crowd and pushed onward.

Why did she feel antagonistic toward Nastom and his sister? They were only guests, and they needed a place to stay. Her mother didn't have the brains to support her daughter, but she could take pity on a strange boy and a toddler. Kos shook her head. There was no cause for bitterness. She had always known about her mother. Maria could not pass the tests to let her work in the factory. Maria had earned money however she could, and Kos knew she was the result; she had no father that she knew about. So as soon as she turned six she started working. She passed with ease the tests that her mother

 

Longer posts are good. Less frequent posts are bad. Darth Family is definitely a mixed bag, I know.

I'm intrigued by Kos' dilemma; her jealousy of the little family and her dismay that they are eating up her savings. How will she resolve this? Looking forward to more.

 

Wow, this is REALLY good!! I've always wondered where the Jedi came from, it always seemed to me like the universe was just born with them or soemthing.

This is great, can't wait to read more, am putting this on active topic notification

 

I don't know when I'll be here next, so I'll post the next bit now.

I'm so glad people are enjoying this! Welcome, Connemara!
*****

Nastom watched Kos shuffle past him down the busy street and disappear into the factory. He breathed a sigh of relief. She had not seen him, so he had become cocky and followed so closely behind her that he bumped into her when she stopped. She had been too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice him, fortunately.

After waiting for half and hour to be safe, he entered the factory the same way she had, through a side door. It was dim inside, and the air was thick with dust and smoke. He found himself in an anteroom. Gray coveralls hung on hooks from the wall, and he grabbed one and slipped it on over his clothes. Then he stepped out through the next door.

It was like walking into a wave of misery, and he stopped short. The feeling didn't fade, and the despair pushed against him, trying to control his own feelings. The room was large, but seemed cramped because it was packed with machinery and small bodies. He wrinkled his nose. The smell was terrible. Bulky droids welded parts togther, fastened into power outlets on the floor. Every now and then one of the outlets gave out a shower of sparks, lighting up a small area.

Children of no more than six or seven scurried back and forth, disconnecting the droids from their power sockets and pushing them to another port, then changing the welded pieces of metal with new ones. Another child would pull his or her droid into the open spot, and the process started anew. The children weren't all human, Nastom noticed with shock. Some had colorful skin, or fur, or long tails. He stared at them before realizing that with so many planets, it was inevitable that people would look different.

A child cried out as a shower of sparks burned her fingers while she plugged her droid in. The droid was at least as big as she was. Instead of sitting down and sobbing, she popped her dirty fingers in her mouth for a second, then turned the droid back on.

A boy no older than Nastom supervised, making sure the children were working and checking their progress. As Nastom watched, the boy ran to the little girl who had burned her hand. He unslung a bag from his shoulder and wrapped something around the little fingers, and the child smiled bravely at him. He seemed as miserable as the children.

Nastom didn't see Kos anywhere, but he knew she must have worked here as a small child. He went on to the next room. Slightly older children sat at long tables, fitting small, sharp pieces into an instrument panel, then placing the finished product on a conveyor belt, which delivered them to a droid. The droids carried stacks of them into another room.

A boy who looked about nine or ten stared at Nastom as he passed. The boy's face was covered in dirt, and his fingers were rough and scarred. He looked down and fitted a button into the panel, cutting his finger. He licked the blood away and placed the panel onto a conveyor belt, taking to the next child, who twisted two wires together. They gave her hands a shock, and she dropped it. A teenager hurried over to see what the problem was, then slapped her cruelly and moved on. The teens were obviously in charge of the children.

Nastom was sicked by the conditions. The air was so thick with dirt that it was hard to see through it, and the light was dim. He wondered how the children could see the fine work they were doing. No doubt that was why children did the work, because their eyes were young and strong.

Nastom could feel the shocks and cuts of the children and he passed, but he had to find Kos. If the smallest children worked in conditions like these, what was Kos going through right now? He was grimly thankful he had decided to follow her today.

In the next room were young adolescents. They swarmed over half-completed ships, checking the welds and searching for imperfections. Others handed instrument panels and and enginge parts to fixed droids, w

 

Still very interesting

//Enjoying!

 

cool