A day later, deep into our travel towards the system where I grew up, I was within our ship's leisure area. With nothing much to do but wait, I sat cross-legged on one of the cushioned benches, a casual smirk hanging from my face as I shuffled the deck of sabacc cards. It was my idea to play a few rounds of the cards, but then again, it turns out Vila didn't know the rules... So, I spent a few hours teaching her before starting to play for real. Across from me, Vila lounged lazily in her seat, one leg draped over the armrest, her lekku twitching slightly as she observed me with narrowed eyes, reaching out with the Force to make sure...
"You're not using your tricks, are you?" she asked, pointing an accusatory finger at me, unable to get a proper read.
"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What tricks? I'm innocent."
"Pft, sure you are!" She groaned. "You know exactly what I mean! The just-so-perfect read you can get on others... No peeking into my mind to tell if I'm bluffing. Unfair!"
"I'm not," I swore as I placed a hand over my heart, looking deeply offended. "Vila, I would never! I believe in fair play."
"Uh-huh," she answered, rolling her eyes, looking at me with a deadpan look. "That's what you said last time. And yet, somehow, you miraculously folded right before I was about to go all in with a pretty good hand."
"You raised too big, too soon:" I grinned. "Plus, wouldn't it be just a coincidence, if nothing else?"
"There are no coincidences in sabacc. You said it yourself." Vila narrowed her eyes further, then sighed and shook her head. "Alright. Let's just play another round..."
With a chuckle, I dealt the cards and began our usual back-and-forth of bets, raises, and inevitable arguments over 'strategy.' Vila, probably because of her new-coming understanding of the game, boosted by her usual bravado, had a sabacc face like an open holy book—every twitch of her lekku, every poorly suppressed smirk when she got a good card, gave her away. I didn't even need to use my powers to read into her feelings; they were visible to the naked eye. On the other hand... I had mastered the art of looking just uncertain enough to lure her into reckless bets, only to reveal a winning hand with a smirk that made her want to throw the deck at my head. If there is something I did learn from my brothers... it was how to play sabacc. I will give them that.
"You're insufferable," Vila muttered after losing another round.
"And yet, here you are, still playing," I chuckled, gathering the credits with a flourish of my hand. Not that it was a big pot, not even big enough to buy lunch. But what is the point of playing for nothing? "You know," I continued, "It is almost like you enjoy losing to me."
"I enjoy eventually wiping that smug look off your face."
[Statement: Statistically unlikely.]
Suddenly, a metallic clank interrupted our game. HK-O1 had shifted slightly from where he stood, watching us with his glowing red photoreceptors, probably standing there for a time now.
[Observation: Your inefficient organic brains appear unable to calculate optimal probabilities. It is fascinating to witness your consistent failures, meatbags.]
"Oh yeah?" Vila snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, HK."
"Big talk from a rustbucket!" I shot at him as I leaned back, an idea forming in my mind. "You know what? Do you think you're so smart, HK? Why don't you join us for a few rounds?"
[Query: You wish for me to engage in this rudimentary form of entertainment?] The droid's head tilted slightly, and I could swear I detected some kind of... challenge in his voice.
"Yes, HK," Vila said, grinning as she shuffled the deck. "Let's see if your perfect mechanical brain can handle the unpredictable chaos, which is my genius playstyle!"
[Statement: This will be disappointingly easy, meatbags. Proceed.] HK said as he slid into a seat with an eerily smooth motion despite his mismatched body, his metal fingers drumming on the table like a practiced gambler, already excited to earn big... or lose it all. Could droids be addicted to it? Or was it just his programming? Huh.
"Weird..." I muttered as I cleared my throat. "Alright, since you're new to sabacc, here's how it works—"
[Interruption: Unnecessary. I have already accessed the rules via the HoloNet. Sabacc is a game of variable card values, shifting hands, and psychological manipulation. Primitive but marginally engaging. For a meatbag game, that is.]
"Right," I said slowly, exchanging a glance with Vila, "Well, just so we're clear—cards can shift values randomly thanks to the randomizer chip in the deck. The goal is to get as close to 23 or -23 as possible without going over—"
[Clarification: Or to force opponents into overcommitting through strategic deception. Additionally, the 'Idiot's Array'—a 2, 3, and a face card of the same suit—instantly wins. Am I correct?]
"Tsk..." Vila clicked her tongue as it took her about half an hour to remember it all, "Okay, yeah, you got it. But knowing the rules and playing are two different things."
[Smug Addendum: For organics, perhaps.]
And with that and another snort from Vila, she dealt the cards.
The first few rounds seemed even. Vila and I played as usual, and HK… simply sat there, motionless, his photoreceptors flickering slightly as his cards stacked up. Did he freeze or something? It wasn't until the fourth round that we realized something was very wrong... because he, this time around... had a pure sabacc. And the previous ones were also very close, ending up with hands between 20 and 22.
"Wait a second," I said, frowning as HK collected another pile of credits. "How are you winning every hand?"
[Elaboration: I am utilizing basic statistical analysis, probability matrices, and pattern recognition. Additionally, I have identified Vila's tendency to blink twice when she bluffs and Kael's micro-expression shift when he considers folding.]
"You bastard..." I moaned as we exchanged horrified looks.
"Wait—you've been reading us this whole time?" Vila gasped. "You were staring at your hand the whole time!"
[Correction: Reading you is unnecessary. Your inefficiencies reveal themselves before you even consciously acknowledge them. My main focus is on other things.]
"..." I couldn't help but groan again, rubbing my temples. "He's… he's card counting, isn't he?"
[Affirmation: Of course. Any competent droid would. Additionally, I have been making minor adjustments to the deck's randomization algorithm each time Vila shuffles, ensuring favorable outcomes.]
"You've been cheating?!" She shouted, half in outrage, half in admiration, slamming her hands on the table.
[Clarification: I have been optimizing my chances of success. The term 'cheating' is an organic construct irrelevant to superior artificial intelligence.] HK calmly collected another stack of credits, showing an Idiot's Array. [Victory: Assured.]
"Pfffft..." I laughed as I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. "Well, that's just great. Serves me right, eh?" I glanced at Vila, "We invited a murder droid to play sabacc, and he turned out to be a gambling mastermind. Shows us how overly trusting we are, hoping he would play fairly!"
"Let's put its head on a mouse droid..." Vila huffed, tossing her cards onto the table. "This is ridiculous. I refuse to play against a glorified probability engine!"
[Smug Declaration: It is not my fault you lack the computational power to adapt.] HK's photoreceptors gleamed with self-satisfaction.
"I should have ordered you to not even think about cheating!" I grumbled, collecting the cards and deciding to end it for the day. "Alright, that's it. New rule: No droids in sabacc."
[Mocking Response: How convenient for the inferior meatbags.]
Finally, Vila threw a pillow at him, which bounced harmlessly off his chassis. Not that anything harder would have done any harm at all.
[Dry Remark: Your feeble assault only further proves my intellectual superiority.]
"He is enjoying riling you up," I sighed, pinching the ridge of my nose. "Remind me why we keep him around?"
"We can scrap him," Vila smirked. "We already have the clues; we don't need him anymore, no?"
[Amused Observation: Incorrect. You may wish to use me as a bargaining chip, and you would miss my charming personality. Request: Although it would be highly appreciated if you would forget me in a world, granting me my freedom.]
"Fat chance," I answered, standing up. "I wouldn't want to release a menace like you onto the Galaxy."
...
....
...
A few days later, I was sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to my Master, watching him pull the lever and drop us back into real space. The moment the ship reverted from hyperspace, I felt it before he saw it.
Iskandor. My home. But did it still feel like home?
No. Not really, as I have never felt at home in the past, either.
The ship's systems beeped once as the navicomputer confirmed our coordinates, and the viewport was filled with the industrial expanse of the Ilaris Sector's mightiest world, the shipwright world of the Valtherion family. From its center, the twin stars bathed the planet in a pale, golden glow, their intensive light refracting against the orbital shipyards that cast long shadows above its surface like giants. Even from this distance, the flickering lights of active docking bays and the slow movements of massive construction arms gave a sense of business. Iskandor had always been a place like this. A never-stopping city of Imperial pride.
I couldn't help but watch as I leaned forward, resting my hands on the edge of the navicomputer, my eyes locked onto the world below. I had left this place as a child, exiled by choice but cast aside all the same. There was no future for me here. Now, I had returned as a Jedi—or at least, something close to one—a Padawan.
I wasn't sure which version of myself would my family would despise more. The returning escapee or the Jedi.
"..." Master Ben's voice broke the silence as he patted my shoulder, making me flinch. "How does it feel?"
"Well..." I inhaled slowly, letting the filtered air of the ship fill my lungs before exhaling it. "Strange." I turned to face my Master, to look into his blue eyes. "It looks and feels the same, but I don't think I belong here anymore."
"I understand," Ben nodded, arms crossed over his chest as he studied me with a quiet understanding. "But... That's the thing about home. It never changes as much as we do."
"Maybe..." I smirked, though it lacked honesty. "Sounds wise, Master."
"Stole it from my dad," Ben admitted with a flicker of amusement in his blue eyes. "Father has a habit of saying things that make sense at important-sounding moments."
I was about to answer when the ship's comm crackled as Master Katarn's voice cut in, being at the gunner alcoves with Vila, one of them at the top, one at the bottom. Prepared for everything.
"We're in Imperial space now, kids. Transmitting clearance codes. Let's hope your name still carries enough weight to keep us from getting blasted out of the sky for coming in without prior notice."
Hearing it... I couldn't help but wince. It was a collective decision to come home in a more... subtle way. I was not going to appear as a Jedi, not out of the blue. Instead, I would return home as someone who made his own fortune and was now a merchant. Would it work? I didn't know, but Master thought it was best not to introduce us as Jedi, especially after I told him my family hated them. We were here to make contact with my oldest brother... and see what we could find out from there.
Even then... Iskandor was still under the Remnant's control, and while the family name of Valtherion once commanded deep respect, my absence—my betrayal in their eyes—may have changed the fact that my name has any meaning here.
Then, I watched as the comm light blinked as an incoming transmission was received. Switching it on, a crisp, clipped Imperial voice followed shortly after.
"Unidentified vessel, state your designation and purpose for entry into Iskandor space."
"Yes," I muttered something under my breath before pressing the comm switch to transmit our fake identification directly. "This is the Renegade requesting clearance to approach. We're here on diplomatic and... personal business. Transmitting identification now."
And we waited... It was a long pause. Then, the voice returned, this time with a notable shift in tone.
"Transmission received. Stand by."
Just sitting in my seat, I felt my pulse quicken as the silence stretched on. I knew exactly what was happening—my name had set off alarms in the system, and now some officer was scrambling to decide what to do with the info.
"Think they're rolling out a welcome mat or a firing squad?" Vila muttered from the comms, and I could see her arms holding the turbo lasers' control rod, her lekku twitching with impatience
"Fifty-fifty," I murmured. "Maybe they'll let us land first and shoot me later."
"Kael," Ben shot me a look. "That's not helping."
"Sorry..." Just then, the comm crackled to life once more.
"Renegade, you are cleared for landing at Docking Bay 32-B. Escorting patrols will guide you in. Do not deviate from the assigned flight path."
The channel cut off, not waiting for an answer.
"Huh..." I let out a slow sigh. "Well, that was dramatic."
"What are those?" Vila asked as I saw a group of TIEs flying by us, taking up escorting formation. "I never saw a TIE-fighter like those."
"Those are TIE-defenders." I answered, looking out at them, "It is one of the ships we are equipped to make... One of the reasons my family has some weight behind their name to this day..."
And the fact that they were usually under the command of my older brother. I wonder... Will he be waiting for us? Well, a few moments, and I will know.