The sound of people huddled together filled the air, various peddlers hawking their goods to those that walked by. Music could be heard, whether it was the humming from a stranger passing by or the sounds of instruments from the inns. Twilight was approaching, and if one tried hard enough, they could smell the faintest scent of roasting meat. The jingling of metal from one vendor rattled in the distance, curses and the like soon following.
Kah breathed a sigh of relief.
Freedom, these people had it. They were able to live their lives without fear that tomorrow could be their last. They drank from the cup of life, appreciating each day with that breath of freedom. The Gungan wished his people could have that, but knew it was but a pipe dream. As long as slavers existed, so too would the fear of oppression many of his people had. The Jedi found himself walking the street, wandering from place to place and peering into the windows. Some were homes, and he was immediately greeted by strange looks and shooing away. But there were some windows, some dimly lit by the lights of a distant fireplace, that showed him the warmth of home, a family sitting together and reading a story.
His walk led him further away from the central market, stalls and vendors distributed less and less frequently, but their voices were filled with a fiery desperation that the central market ones lacked. They looked at the Gungan and tried to sell whatever they thought he needed.
“
Frying pan, sah? Cooks real well, even in swamps!”
“Towels? You look like a swimmer to me, sir!”
The Gungan politely declined all of them, pushing past them and walking further. He found himself lost to the growing darkness, the way the city came to a sleepy crawl when the moons could be seen. The Jedi looked up at the sky, some stars kissing the purple and red sky that came with the nearly set sun. It was times like this that Kah felt at peace, when the shadows inside his heart and mind left him alone and he could just sit and enjoy the quiet hum of life.
They were always there though, lingering just beneath the surface. The demons of his past, the screams of his nightmares, lurking outside of view. They gnawed away at him, his regret and sorrow of what had happened. The feeling that knowing he can never do anything to help ease his suffering, to never hold his family again, ate at his sanity. The Gungan had a dark side, and no amount of benevolence or tranquility to rid him of it.
His walk was interrupted when he heard the angry yelling of a vendor, the sound of a struggle, and more yelling. The Gungan sprinted forward, following the sound until he came upon the sight of an alien in an apron shaking his fist angrily. The Jedi saw the culprit sprinting away, carrying a large black box.
“My credits!” yelled the alien, “Come back here with my credits!”
As soon as the word credits left the alien’s mouth, a blaster shot was fired. A red bolt of energy came from the darkness and tore into the alien’s stomach, leaving a large black scorch mark. The alien fell, gasping for air, muttering something about credits. The Jedi walked over to him, recognizing him at last when he saw his face. He had dealt with him shortly after the Dac Compound incident, getting supplies brought in through him to help train their military. The Gungan gazed into the tent the culprit left, noticing it wasn’t a vendor stall at all but a quaint little home.
The Gungan sprinted off after the culprit, alerting the Summit that someone had died and he was going to be bringing the criminal to justice. When he relayed where he was, the crackle of his commlink came to life with the voice of his Proconsul.
“Where are you?” asked Turel, “Visulu Marketplace, by chance?”
Kah clicked once, continuing his sprint after the criminal, and clicked the commlink.
“Yessah, in da alleys to da east. Mesa can handle it, yousa no worry. Hesa won’t be botherin’ nobody no more.”
The Gungan continued following a set of tracks he had found, the footprints left in the mud by the culprit. The Jedi thanked the Force for sparse foot traffic, the set of tracks to follow being easy to pick out. He was running, which left a deeper imprint in the mud and made it more distinct. The voice of Turel came through the commlink once more.
“I’m in the area, I got it. No worries Kah.”
The Jedi didn’t stop following the tracks, disregarding his Proconsul’s wishes. He would find the one who did this, and ensure he faced justice. Whether that justice was a blade or a trial still remained to be seen, the Gungan unsure of what actions might transpire that night.
