If all the doors around here didn’t open and close automatically, Les Wyler would have given them all good slam as he made his way through the complex. He barely heard or saw anyone he passed, being too busy replaying through his mind the brief and unexpected message left by his former master.
Apologies for having to leave on such short notice…things come up, you know how it is…so proud of the Jedi you’ve become…Force be with you…yadda yadda.
He couldn’t explain why the note had set him off so, but he was more ticked at Master Katarn than he had ever been to anyone before. He felt like hurling lighting at anyone who made eye contact with him. Brows lowered over glittering eyes, Les glowered at the path in front of him, his boots clomping loudly on the shining floor.
Yeah, right, Master – how would you know what kind of Jedi I’ve become? You were gone at the moment I needed you most; now you’re gone again. I don’t care if you ever come back – in fact, I hope I never see you again.
Before he knew it, he had arrived at the living area of their quarters, standing with clenched fists and tightened jaw before his father, relaxed and half-dozing in the easy chair, Asya sitting limply in his lap with her head on his shoulder, asleep. Mark looked at him quizzically. The fury that had followed him in as well as the black smears and smoldering smudges on his face and clothing surely had an alarming and dramatic effect. The thrill of his own power this fed his ego ought to have disturbed him, but instead he found himself enjoying it. He reveled in his father’s reaction, the concern on his face.
“You all right, son?” Mark asked quietly, so as not to disturb his sleeping daughter.
Les quivered with rage. He knew he was being unreasonable and irrational, but after being double-crossed and betrayed yet again, at least in his mind, he felt a line had been crossed and he neither couldn’t nor wouldn’t stop himself. He didn’t even try to calm down, feeling justified in his anger. He liked how it felt, and he no longer cared whether it was right or wrong. He stabbed the air with his forefinger as he seethed, “Just promise me this, Dad: don’t call me Jedi again, understand? Ever!” It was hard to keep his voice down. Asya stirred a little, but didn’t awaken. Mark stared at him with wide eyes, not knowing what in the world to say.
Les gave him no time to figure that out, turning on his heel and wishing once more he could slam that door behind him as he entered his room and sealed himself inside. Sitting on the edge of his bed, in the dark, his nails digging into his soot-stained palms as he clenched his fists tighter and pressed them against his stinging eyes.
That was it, Master – the last time you abandon me when I need you. I’ve burned my bridges behind me – or, to put it more accurately…a castle.