Chapter Text
Bracca was a dreary planet. A graveyard for fallen and damaged ships that rained more often than not, filled to the brim with overworked and underpaid Guild workers, Imperial guards, and scrap rats. So many goddamn scrap rats. It wasn’t a place where people made a home. Whether you were there paying off a debt to the Empire or the Guild, or a former engineer turned scrapper, Bracca was the kind of place good people went to slowly work their lives away.
It was also, however, a good place to disappear. Despite the Imperial presence, no one tended to care about strangers showing up to start scrapping. And as long as you worked hard, the Guild didn’t give a shit about who you were before you came here.
Which was a damn good thing for someone like Cal Kestis.
After about five years on Bracca, all most people knew about him was that he was nimble and skinny, able to fit into many places others couldn’t. He worked hard, didn’t complain about the long hours, and went home at the end of the day. His only close friend was his shift partner, an Abednedo named Prauf who he’d often get drinks with after their long shifts. But even Prauf didn’t know about where Cal came from.
And he was determined to keep it that way. For his own safety, and for everyone else’s.
A loud noise suddenly blared across the scrapyards, tearing through Cal’s headphones and signaling the end of the day shift. Cal let loose a sigh of relief, turning off his blowtorch and his music. Finally. It had been a long and especially dreary day, raining from sunup until…well, now, and despite working under the cover of a Venator’s exterior roofing, the wetness still tended to permeate the air, leaving Cal nice and moist even with his protective Guild-issued poncho.
He got to his feet and met up with Prauf as they gathered their tools and followed the other workers out to the trains. “You doin’ okay there, Cal?” The Abednedo asked, noticing his shivering.
“Fine,” Cal shot back. “Would just like to get home and change into something dry.”
“Heh, yeah. It’s been cold recently. Have to wonder if they’ll start shortening shifts with the daylight like last winter.”
“Doubt it. Besides, who can even tell when the sun's up on days like these?”
Prauf sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” They reached the train station, hopping on and grabbing one of the empty benches. “Makes you wonder why some of us still bother showing up anymore.”
Cal gently slapped his shoulder. “C’mon, Prauf, don’t tell me you’re thinking of quitting.”
“Oh, heh. Not me. I was talkin’ about you, kid.”
“Me?” Cal scoffed. “Why would I go anywhere?”
“You’re a young guy. Spry. Smart. Talented. You could do anything, go anywhere. You don’t need to be stuck here with me forever.”
Cal pulled at the glove on his left hand. Oh, you have no idea how much I’m actually stuck here, buddy. “And what if here is exactly where I want to be?”
“You wanna scrap old ships in the cold rain for the rest of your life?” He deadpanned.
“Maybe.”
“Come on, Cal, I know you. You were someone before you came here. You could be someone out there. Here…we’re just numbers. An assembly line for an organization that’s never satisfied. We’re expendable.” He shook his head. “You’re really just okay with that?”
“I didn’t say that. But…” Cal glanced around, lowering his voice. You never knew who was listening. “That’s life here, you know. Besides, it’s not all bad. It’s honest work, when the Empire butts out anyway, and, well, I got you. I got Tabbers. I got our shift partners. And I got a killer work uniform.”
“You and those damn ponchos.” The Abednedo rolled his eyes. “You gotta get a life, Cal. Find your destiny, y’know?”
“Destiny?” Cal scoffed. “Buddy, we barely got enough money to buy dinner. Unless my destiny is shitty alcohol and ration bars, it's remaining unfound.”
“Always so stubborn,” Prauf muttered. “Fine. No destiny. How about drinks?”
“If we can stop off at my apartment first, sure.” Cal brushed some excess moisture off his poncho, making a face at how much slid off. Force, he hated the rain.
The train ride was thankfully short, dropping them off at the station in town before heading back to the work site to grab anyone who was delayed. Cal and Prauf quickly headed to their respective apartments to change. Prauf hauled off his armor plating while Cal threw on a new shirt and pants, leaving his poncho to dry in the refresher. Then, unceremoniously braving the rain again—with an umbrella this time—they made the short trek to the bar. On the way there, they passed a few stormtrooper patrols. Nothing out of the ordinary, seeing as the Empire’s presence had grown exponentially on Bracca in the last few years, but the sight of them still made Cal unconsciously bristle. The combination of the armor and helmets, all too close to the Clones who’d hunted him and his master in the Albedo Brave, and the knowledge that they’d shoot him on the spot if they had any inkling of what he was was enough to make him pretty wary of the guys. Even if Cal knew there was no way for them to figure it out just by looking at him.
He’d been on Bracca for five years. He’d never revealed his abilities—or his master’s lightsaber. No one knew who he was.
He was safe. He had to believe that.
Prauf and him settled at their usual table in the corner, ordering a usual round of cheap beers. The bar was bustling, filled with workers just getting off their long shifts and Guild higher-ups blowing off steam. As one of the only remaining leisure places the Empire hadn’t shut down, it stood to reason that it’d be packed. Cal was just glad there weren’t many troopers in here. He knew he had nothing to worry about, with Prauf knowing nothing of his past, but he still bristled at the idea of drinking in their presence. There was always a miniscule chance he slipped up while intoxicated, and he definitely didn’t want that.
“Feelin’ better?”
Cal nodded, sipping on his sour drink. “Nice to be dry.”
“You hear they’re lowering wages again?”
“Sounds about right.” Cal sighed, already mentally trying to figure out how he could stretch his meager paycheck even further. “Guess we’re cutting back on after-work outings.”
“Ah, I’d rather skip lunch. Go back to ration bars.”
Cal chuckled. “That’s because you didn’t grow up on those things.”
“And you did?”
He pressed his mouth shut. Damnit. Most citizens didn’t have ration bars unless they were essential workers in the middle of nowhere or soldiers. And Cal very well couldn’t reveal that he was a soldier. He clearly wasn’t a Clone or a Separatist, and the only other option was damning.
“Right.” Prauf swallowed his drink, calling for another. “Well, they ain’t all bad. Tastes like nothing but it keeps you full till dinner.”
Cal shrugged. “Guess so. We’ll have to see how much they actually cut down.”
“Offer to move back in still stands if money gets too tight, you know.”
“I know.” Cal and Prauf had lived together for the first three and a half years he’d been in Bracca—partially because he was a minor and wouldn’t get approved for an apartment and partially because the idea of being alone those first few months had sent him into a panic strong enough to make him fear using the Force on accident. But once Cal turned eighteen and was far more mentally stable, he moved to his own apartment just down the hall. Close enough to still come over for movie nights and Prauf’s famous pasta dishes, but far enough for some space.
Made it a touch easier to meditate anyway.
“We’ll be fine. We’ve dealt with pay cuts before.”
“Gotta miss the days we didn’t have to worry about it.” He shook his head. “Didn’t have to worry about the Empire.”
Cal snorted. You’re telling me. “Yeah, those days are a distant memory.”
Prauf sobered, just a bit. He must’ve heard some sadness in Cal’s voice. “What do you miss most about it? The days…before. I miss the freedom. The kindness. The camaraderie. Things were much happier down here, lemme tell ya.”
I miss my master. The commander. All the other troopers. The ones who…who killed Master Tapal. I still miss them. Even though.
I miss being a Jedi. I miss not having to hide who I am.
I miss feeling safe.
“Being able to see the galaxy,” Cal said, figuring that was safer than anything else. “My…family took me to see a lot of places.”
Prauf smiled crookedly. “See, I told ya. You’re an adventurer at heart, Cal. An explorer. You gotta get out there again.”
“No use pining for what isn’t possible.” Cal finished off his beer. “C’mon, let’s get outta here. I’m exhausted.”
“Me too, pal.” Prauf chuckled.
They both paid their tab, nodded hello to a few coworkers, and headed home. The rain had thankfully stopped for now, making for an actually semi-enjoyable evening walk back to their apartments.
Prauf took a deep breath in, his large nostrils flaring. “Ah. Gotta love the smell of rain, eh, Cal?”
“The smell? Sure. Everything else about it?”
He laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Just your luck that you happened to end up on the wettest planet this side of the mid-rim, eh?”
“Yeah,” Cal replied bitterly. “Luck.”
“Right. Well, I’m gonna try to get some winks before the next shift. See you tomorrow?”
Cal nodded, bidding him goodbye at the door. “See ya, Prauf.”
Shutting his door, Cal hung up his umbrella and collapsed into bed, not even bothering to do any kind of nightly routine. Long gone were the days that he cared about how his hair or skin looked. The rain and humidity would destroy any kind of styling or upkeep he tried to do anyway.
He sighed, staring up at the dark, featureless ceiling. In a way, Prauf was right. He did yearn for more, for a life beyond this wet, miserable scrap heap. But even if he could get off the planet (which he could, in theory, since Tabbers owed him a favor and could transport him anywhere he wanted), he wasn’t sure anywhere would be safer for a Jedi. Here it was easy to blend in. The scrappers knew him, could vouch for him. If he tried to go explore the galaxy, chances were higher that he’d be discovered. He didn’t have a legit Imperial I.D. His name was the same that he’d used during the Clone Wars. If anyone looked into him too hard, he’d be fucked.
No one cared on Bracca. But elsewhere?
Cal pulled the comforter over his body and turned over, closing his eyes. This was his life now. At least here, there was some stability. Friends. He was technically on the run, sure, but no one looked twice at him. As long as he kept his head down, he could live out here as long as he needed. Perhaps one day the Council would find him—if any members were left. Or another Jedi. Perhaps one day the Empire would cease to exist.
But until then, Bracca was his home. And as far as he was concerned, he had no reason to leave.